Electric Buffalo: A Shadowrun Tale
by KansasVaultdweller
Summary: In the summer of 2069, the shadows crawl over the hot plains of Kansas where man and metabeast are wild and dangerous. A team of young shadowrunners will face the greatest evil the 6th World has ever produced. (This novel is now complete. Please leave a review, constructive criticism is always appreciated.)
1. Chapter 1

**1 July 2069** **Somewhere on the Kansas Prairie**

**1330 Hours**

Amid a copse of cottonwood trees, whose leaves flashed silver whenever the wind blew, a shaman's drum echoed forth. A wickiup made of branches and roofed with sod and scavenged yellow plastic sheets, sat in the shadows of the cottonwoods. Inside the wickiup, Zed the Buffalo Shaman chanted softly to the rhythm of his drum. Zed was an old black man, his hair was iron gray and his face was a wrinkled leather mask. He sat cross-legged on the floor amid the wisps of sage smoke twisting up aimlessly from the small fire. His eyes closed, the buffalo shaman journeyed in his animal form in the spirit world.

Zed ran with The Great Herd, his hooves pounding the prairie grass that shimmered like gold. The herd was strong and its passing was thunder that shook the world. Zed always enjoyed The Run, as he called it, with the eternal spring of the astral prairie in his nostrils, nostrils that heaved great snorts of air as his lungs bellowed. Bison, the leader and Zed's spiritual totem, angled his way to run beside him. Bison's hide was a silvery white, reflecting both sun and star in equal magnificence. Rarely did Bison seek him out personally, but such was his intention today.

"Follow me," Bison ordered.

Zed ran at the Great Buffalo's flank, keeping pace with him, enjoying the moment of running alone with his totem instead of The Herd. Their path ran over the prairie until the mountains appeared in the distance. It was to those mountains they traveled, so they went onward until their hooves were striking sparks from the stones of the mountain. Bison lead him up to the peak of the mountain, passing through the clouds that encircled the mountain like a tattered shroud, and then past them to the very peak of the mountain. Still they did not stop as the Great Buffalo leapt from the mountain peak. Zed followed, even though a spike of panic rose in him. As he jumped he saw Bison land upon the very top of the clouds and continue his run. Zed landed a pace behind him and he too ran along the top of the clouds. The clouds rolled along like they were as solid as the ground below with high-pressure fronts looming above like great white mesas. As they ran over the clouds, their hooves now created real thunder and the sparks that shot out from their hooves were flashes of lightning. But they ran on the top of the storm with the face of the sun upon them. Eventually, Zed could see shapes in the distance, great forms familiar to him, but far larger and more majestic than their earthly counterparts. Bison slowed as he neared the spirit animals sitting in a circle, as if in council. With a snort Bison announced his presence to the others. Zed hung back, just behind The Great Buffalo, and looked in wonder upon the Great Spirit forms of Bear, Cougar, Wolf, Snake, and Eagle.

"This is the one you have chosen?" Asked Snake in a whisper like scales rasping together.

Zed saw the spirit of Snake as a giant sidewinder rattlesnake piled in loose coils, scales shimmering like sunlight on a mountain lake. Somehow, he knew Snake was a female, and he found that oddly disconcerting.

"It is," answered Bison, "he has the power that they will need."

"Have you told him yet of our need?" Asked Snake.

"I have not," answered Bison. "Let this council tell him what he needs to know."

"Very well," said Wolf turning his big head to Zed. "Shaman, you have been brought here by Bison for there is need of you. What we ask of you is both dangerous and desperate, but it serves the Land. Each of us has chosen someone, a champion if you will, to combat a most foul perversion."

"You have, of course, been chosen by me," Bison added.

"I am honored that I would have such faith placed in me," said Zed carefully. "Even though I do not completely understand what it is you ask of me."

"Look down Chosen of Bison, and you will see." Whispered Snake.

Zed looked down and the clouds parted and he saw the ground below, but not as man sees, but as the Spirit Eagle sees it. The short grass of the prairie was a golden field filled with life, but also pain where automated tractors sprayed poisons on fields of wheat and soy. Eventually, they crossed some kind of boundary, and the life of the land was lost and only death remained. It was an _un-life_ that creeped slowly but inexorably outward like a gangrenous infection.

"What you see is a great wound upon the land. If it can, it will spread until all life is but a mockery of itself." said Eagle, whose plumage and form was that of a golden eagle.

"Can anything heal this wound?" Asked Zed.

"Perhaps," Wolf answered. Zed thought he detected a hesitant note in his voice.

"We cannot see that," answered Bear more bluntly.

"There is another power at work here, one that is not of us." Said Snake, "But I do not think it means harm, and it has the capacity to heal the land, I believe."

"The question of the land being healed should be asked only after the source of the wound has been removed," counseled Wolf.

"The land is in great pain, I can feel it," observed Zed.

"Yes," agreed Bison, "but look upon the ground. There is hope."

Zed let his gaze search the waving grasses until he saw a wolf running in the shadows of the mountains. Zed sensed he was young, full of vitality and he ran with a purpose toward the dead land. Soon, another form came up from behind him, a huge grizzly bear that would soon overtake the wolf. At first, Zed thought he was chasing the wolf, but then he realized the bear was following him.

"Each of us has chosen a champion," Wolf explained again, "I have chosen one who can lead the pack and will be reckoned a great hunter."

"And I have chosen a great warrior from my children in the West," growled Bear.

"I have sent one quick and agile. He is deadly with his claws," said Cougar.

As Cougar spoke, Zed saw the form of a mountain lion join the bear and the wolf. Then a quick flash of feathers and a golden eagle came to follow just above the strange procession as well.

"My chosen is swift and keen sighted, he will strike when it is most unexpected," said Eagle.

"Look close upon the ground to see my champion, shaman." Whispered Snake.

Looking closely, he saw upon the ground, crawling fast in the odd gait of sidewinder, a rattlesnake keeping pace with the others.

"I have chosen one agile of mind who can slither into places where other cannot go. Her bite is deadly, and she will strike from below, unseen and only felt when her poison is set in their veins."

"There is another coming, but I cannot see them clearly." Said Zed.

"Neither can we," replied Bear. "That one is hidden from even us."

"Will you join the others in this quest?" Asked Bison. "They will need your wisdom to guide them. They are young, yet untested. I would ask you to walk their path and give them guidance."

Zed looked again at the animal forms running on the prairie floor below. He knew it was vision, a spiritual foreshadowing of reality. The animals ran headlong toward a great danger, but they did not waver in their course.

"Yes." Zed Answered.

"Good, now follow me back."

"Shaman," said Bear, "look for this sign in the man-city to the east of your lodge."

Zed could see Bear was holding a paw up that was as crimson as blood.

Bison rose from where he had been sitting on his haunches and began running back toward the mountaintop. Zed tried to follow, but mist rose from the clouds like a fog that hid the form of The Great Buffalo, and only his hooves beat against the clouds, but as the light faded into the gray mist, the sound became not the pounding of hooves, but the beat of fingers against a drum and the mist of the clouds became the smoke of a sage fire, the pungent odor filling the small hut. The spirit vision was over, but in the last mist of the vision he thought he saw the white flashing wings of a dove flying with the companions.

Zed stood up from his cross-legged position and stretched. He walked over to the old army canteen that hung from the wall of his hut. He drank deeply of the tepid water it contained. As he lowered the canteen he caught his reflection in the scrap of mirror he'd placed in the wall. His African heritage was prominent in his high cheekbones, dark skin, and tight curls of hair. He was he old, older than he had a right to be. But he was strong, as strong and as healthy as he had been as young man. His face was lined with age, but also from weather of the plains, the ferocious heat of the summer and the biting cold of the winter. And the wind, of course, always the wind was present on the prairie, whispering and playing in the grasses or howling with rage during the great thunderstorms that lashed the prairie with their fury.

"What have I gotten myself into now?" Zed asked out loud in the manner of those who have spent too much time alone.

VI


	2. Chapter 2

**4 July 2074**

**Washington D.C.**

1500 Hours

General Meeks watched the old monuments of Washington D.C. slip past the mirrored windows of the congressional limo. He thought of them as nothing more than relics of old victories and faded glory. He had come to this town for the obligatory holiday celebrations, although his heart was not in them

"They are impressive, are they not General?" Asked Congressman Breakstone referring to the monuments.

"They use to be." The general replied with a shrug.

"I believe they can be again."

"How so, Sir?"

"When they represent the future instead of the past. They will be great again when this nation becomes great again."

"If you say so, Congressman."

"General, you have been too outspoken about the degradation of this country by the corporations and anarchists to play coy now. This is the critical hour General, as to whether we survive as a nation, fall to our enemies, or become corporatocracy."

"Forgive me Congressman, but I'm going to speak bluntly. It is common knowledge that you are firmly in the pocket of at least two of the bigger corporations."

"Three actually," acknowledged the Congressman. "They make significant contributions to my political campaigns every year. In turn, I make sure legislation they find favorable gets put on the table. That is the reality of our present age. But despite what my detractors say, they don't own my soul. I want this nation to be great again, unified and out from under thumbs of corporations."

"Congressman Breakstone, I'm confused. You say you wan this nation to be autonomous again, yet you admit working for the corps."

"General," explained the Congressman thoughtfully, "I have been working as subtlety as I can while holding this office to plant the seeds of a New Reconstruction. The corporations are not all-powerful entities some make them out to be. They are fallible constructs made by man, economic empires if you will, and like any empire they can be toppled, or at least brought under control. The great weakness of this country is not the politics or the economy, or even our dependence on the corporations. Our greatest weakness is that our people have lost hope. This has always been a nation of people living by a ideal, a hope, there could be a better tomorrow. Too many have given up that hope, and just accepted the world as it is, as if the fall of this nation was inevitable. But I have not given up the hope that we might rise from our ashes and restore our nation to its former glory."

"How do you propose we do that, Congressman?"

"With extreme caution," warned Breakstone. "We must identify the core elements that we need to develop and then work to build them up, without anyone suspecting what we are doing. If we sow the seed, perhaps the idealism will grow and we can shake off the chains of corporate masters."

"What do you mean, 'we', Congressman?"

"You are aware of my latest proposal?"

"The civilian defense thing?"

"Yes, that is one of the seeds I have planted. I am sure that I can get the votes in both the House and the Senate and get it on the President's desk. The President owes me a couple of favors and what I'm proposing has such a low budget demand that I suspect no one will even notice."

"I don't understand how that program is going to restore this nation, Congressman," admitted the general.

"In and of itself, it will do nothing, General Meeks," admitted Breakstone. "But, there are other people who think like I do, who are working to promote our cause. We can't propose anything too bold, or the corporations will shut it down. We must be very careful, very subtle, in our actions. The Civilian Defense Initiative proposal will take ordinary civilians and train them in paramilitary tactics. Kansas is the new frontier, it is out of the way and no one gives it much thought. Anarchy reigns in most of the state. I am hoping to bring stability to the region, make it safe for people to farm and live there again. If the program is successful in my state, I hope to export the idea to urban areas where high crime rates and near anarchy rule as well."

"You want to create a population base of people who can fight for themselves, so you can create a revolution against the corps?" Asked the General more than a little incredulous.

"Eventually, but right now we have to prepare them for that revolution, without anyone being aware of what we are doing, not even the revolutionaries. It is more important to instill in them a sense of independence than it is to teach them to shoot a gun. When they perceive themselves as self-reliant, they will begin to resent the corporation's control over their lives. They will then begin to seek their independence once again, turning away from the corporations who have bought their votes with a hole in some housing project and a monthly pittance. In many ways, the corporations' powers are illusional. We need to show people the power lies with them."

"How do I fit into this…quiet revolution?"

"I quite like that phrase, 'Quiet Revolution', General. I think I will use it as my own," said the politician with a smile. "You are in charge of Special Operations at the Pentagon. My people tell my your men have a strong independent streak in their psychological profiles. I want your people to pass that on to people in this nation. I need you to make this idea succeed, General Meeks. Don't make a half-hearted effort on your part, but put your best men on the project."

"That's all you want me to do?" Asked General Meeks suspiciously.

"If you can champion the program among your peers, whom I'm sure will be less than receptive to the ideas of citizens playing soldiers, that would be nice. However, giving the program a decent chance to succeed is the main thing."

The army general looked outside once again, this time looking not at the white marble of old monuments, but at the ragged, hopeless people who lived in their shadow. At one time, he thought to himself, you took an oath to serve these people, but you've been playing politics yourself for so long maybe you forgot why you put on this uniform.

"Okay, you'll get my best people. I will make sure your program gets a chance, but no guarantees."

"Thank you, General Meeks. That is all I ask. Be of good cheer, this is a good

day, and it may even be the day that will change the history of the world as we know it."


	3. Chapter 3

Grey Braddock rolled through the gate of the repair and salvage yard his father and his Uncle Walter had bought thirty years ago. He parked his hybrid alcohol and electric motorcycle, which he had built himself from spare parts, next to the familiar orange car and an electric scooter of his friends. He could hear them shouting to one another as they played his latest sim game, "Beachhead in Normandy" through the open window above. Grey went up the stairs to his apartment that squatted above the garage.

Red Bear, the Native American ork, dominated the room, his huge frame sat at the end of the couch, with Frank Matthews sitting next to him. Red Bear had the long black hair of Native Americans and a stylized tattoo of a red bear print on his left cheek. He was wearing grease stained mechanics overalls.

Frank Matthews was short, but his shoulders were broad and his face pleasant. Frank was one of those people who always seemed to have a smile on his face. His yellow hair was cut short and he wore jeans and a white t-shirt.

"Your uncle has been asking for you," said Frank, as he followed the game Red Bear and Jose were playing on the wall monitor.

"What'd he want?" Asked Grey.

"He said he needed some cash tonight to buy some food and he wanted you to pull it from the salvage yard's account." Answered Frank.

"He probably needs money for some more BTLs." Said Grey, mostly to himself.

Grey slotted a blank creditstick into the comm and transferred some money into it. He took the creditstick and dropped it down a pipe that would deposit in a metal basket in the salvage yard's office. His uncle would know where to look for it.

"So what is this great plan of yours that's going to make us all rich?" Asked Gary Hodge, as his lanky frame hung over the edges of the armchair next to the couch. His black oily hair hung down to his shoulders and he lounged back in the chair, a beer next to him on the floor. Gary was taller than Grey, but he had a way of hunching his shoulders that diminished him. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a logo of an angst band

"Yeah man, tell us what's up." Agreed Jose Gutierrez, who was sitting backwards in a kitchen chair next to Gary. Jose was Philippino and he kept his long coarse black hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a yellow button shirt and cargo shorts. Jose was slight of build, but fast with a knife. Jose was connected to one of the local gangs via his brother Ernesto.

Jose, Gary, and Frank all worked with him at the NuAggroCorp granary during the harvest. That is how they had met and become friends. With the harvest over, Grey would return to working in his Uncle's salvage yard and the others would try to find more work somewhere else. Grey was the oldest person at twenty-five years of age, but Gary was just a year younger. Frank was two years behind Grey and Jose had just turned twenty-one. Grey didn't know Red Bear's age, but orks aged faster than normal humans. Red bear had been working at the garage in exchange for room and board.

Grey took a deep breath and said, "Let's look at the facts. The unemployment figure is at thirty-five percent and expected to rise. Of the five of us, I'm the only one with a regular job. The government is broke and doesn't have enough money for all the social programs, so no one should expect any help from them. I think we are on our own, and if we don't want to starve, we need to do something for ourselves."

"So what are we supposed to do about? Asked Gary.

"I think we should become shadowrunners."

"Shadowrunners? Us?" Asked Gary incredously.

"Right now," Gary explained in response, "the UCAS military does not have enough resources to defend its borders or even monitor them effectively. Western Kansas is mostly depopulated now after the drought in '56,'57, and '58 wiped out most of the independent farmers. Eco-terrorists raided zoos just after the Ghost Dance and dumped all kinds of animals out there so the western half of the state looks like the fragging Serengeti now. We got herds of elephants, buffalo, lions, and awakened animals by the thousands.

"What the hell does that have to do with us?" Asked Gary.

"Okay, let me bring up some intelligence I paid a decker to get for us. This first piece of information was an interdepartmental memo circulated in the Defense Department. We can see that the Armed Forces committee in congress recommended instituting irregular military units."

"What are those?" Asked Jose.

"Militias," answered Grey, "or what they are calling a Civilian Defense Initiative, which will give rise to the Civilian Defense Groups. In this piece of information gained from a congressional spending bill, we see that the role of the CDGs is to act as scouts and monitor the border. Then there is the Quarantine Zone southwest of here. No one goes in there now, not even the military. They lost too many troops in that region. It is restricted to civilians, although there is no longer a military presence around the QZ."

"They don't need to have one," said Frank, "no one is crazy enough to go in there."

"You want us to join this Civilian Defense thing?" Asked Frank.

"Yes."

"Are they going to pay?"

"Yes, but to be honest, they aren't paying much, the pay is one hundred nuyen a month and the members bring their own equipment."

"A hundred nuyen?" Protested Gary. "That's not worth going out there for!"

"Your right, its not." Agreed Grey.

"Then why would we want to join the freakin' military?" Demanded Gary.

"We aren't joining up for what the military is going to pay us," explained Grey to his friend.

"How does joining them going to make us shadowrunners, Grey?" Asked Frank.

"Joining the CDI program gives us three very important things. First, my hacker found that UCAS Special Forces will be conducting the CDG training and they are very good. Second, we will gain experience in military style operations. Third, even though the government pay is crap, being in the military gives us access to all the restricted areas, no questions asked."

"So what?" Asked Gary.

"So this means we can travel freely between the borders of the CAS and the Native American Nations. Here is how we'll make our money; a bottle of good Tennessee whiskey sells for a hundred nuyen in the ConFed states, but costs us a hundred and seventy-five nuyen in UCAS because of tariffs. That same bottle would sell for over two hundred and fifty in the NANs because of the trade embargos CAS has with the tribal nations.

"And you have relatives down in the Confederated American States," observed Frank, "who can get us the stuff at a lower cost than we can get it here."

"Yes," agreed Grey, "and Red Bear has contacts in the Indian Nations."

"This is insane," Gary said emphatically. "We will all end up in a federal prison for smuggling."

"A CDG units _will _bethe guards, nor will they be monitored as closely as a regular unit would be," argued Grey heatedly, "which would give us a great deal of freedom to operate. There are risks involved, sure, but that is what shadowrunners do, they take risks. If we all pool the bonus money we are getting from the granaries, we would have just enough to outfit ourselves and set up a run of whiskey, tobacco, and medicines that we can sell for a big profit in the territories."

"It sounds like it might work," said Frank thoughtfully, "at least in theory."

"Maybe," agreed Jose.

"Grey has been a good friend to me. I will support him." Red Bear spoke for the first time.

"You are all fraggin' crazy!" Stated Gary. "There is no fraggin' way I am going to do this."

"Gary, we can't do it without you. We won't have enough money for the gear and the goods we want to smuggle."

"Chummer, I am not giving you my nuyen just to get killed or sent to prison."

"Gary…" Grey began.

"NO!" Interrupted Gary loudly. "You're freakin' stupid to think this plan could work."

There was an angry silence as the two young men stared at each other, and then Grey spoke, "Alright, your out."

"Look, you asked me to listen," said Gary placatingly, "and I listened. This is not going to work."

"I said your out, Gary. There isn't any reason for you to stay here any longer."

"You know your right, I got a party to go to." Gary said as he stormed out of the apartment. They heard his scooter cough to life and drive away. The rest of them sat in silence drinking beer.

14


	4. Chapter 4

28 August 2069

**Quarantine Zone**

**2300 hours**

Sergeant Bruce Long Bow of the Sioux Nation Security Force

watched through his Zeiss nightvision binoculars as the black shape of a stealth infiltrator aircraft quickly disappear as it kicked on its afterburners . He could see the packages it dropped float down to the earth on parachutes not far from the location of his hide site.

The men of his Special Forces team quickly retrieved the packages, which consisted mostly food and powerpacks, but also some were marked with biotech labels. Long Bow switched his gaze to the horizon, looking for any sign that the UCAS military had spotted the incursion into its territory. SNSF Command had determined that monitoring the CAS military activity in the western sector would best be accomplished from inside UCAS territory. Since the UCAS military had all but abandoned its western border, the insertion had been incredibly easy.

Long Bow and his men had built their hide site just to north of what had once been the Kansas and Oklahoma state line. From their hide site, they flew UAVs over the border. Manufactured out of a molded poly-latex material the Unmanned Aerial Vehicles were ornithoptic robots that looked and flew like large birds of prey. With their sophisticated cameras and sensors onboard, they could fly overhead of CAS troop formation and bases and not arouse suspicion.

The sergeant was uneasy, and not just because he was inside hostile territory. The land here felt wrong; as if an unseen storm was laying an oppressive hand down upon a land that did not produce a single blade of grass. There were no large animals anywhere in the region, not even birds swooping in the sky above. And those odd black plants grew everywhere. He'd never seen them before, they were bore only a superficial resemblance to ferns, but that is what they called them, lacking a proper name.

The black ferns had choked out green living thing. They had sickly stench, like carrion, that permeated the air. The sergeant sincerely wished he had never been assigned to this mission. Operating an over the fence spy mission into the Confederated American States was one thing, but doing while inside another hostile nation without any hope of backup bordered on the ridiculous. The intelligence section had been confident about the success of the mission, since there was neither a UCAS military presence nor local population in the Quarantine Zone to worry about. However, their presence here did not come without a price.

Captain Chayton joined him, looking through his own binoculars. Long Bow looked at the weathered face of the officer in the faint moonlight and decided that the name Chayton, which meant falcon, suited the officer. They did not speak, there was no reason to. Each member of the team knew what he was supposed to do, and they did it efficiently.

"We can expect a visit from our landlord tonight." The sergeant said in the Sioux tongue. "I think we made a deal with the devil."

The Captain replied, "There is an old Anglo saying if you speak of the devil he will appear. Look to the north, on the right shoulder of the low hill."

Sgt. Long Bow swung his binoculars over to where the Captain had indicated and he soon saw the hooded figure walking toward them.

"I do not like this one, Captain."

"Neither do I Sergeant, but we have little choice."

Two of his troopers brought the Sergeant the packages marked with the biotech logos. The officer and the noncom walked out to meet the person walking in the hood.

"You have that which we want?" Hissed a questioning voice from beneath the hood.

"Yes, as we promised you, we have the nanobots."

"Give them to me." Ordered the shrouded figure as he held out his hands, hands that looked like it belonged on a corpse. They could see metal implants jutting from the flesh of the hand at odd angles, making an effective, if crude set of razorclaws.

Sergeant Long Bow suppressed a shudder when the tips of his dead white fingers brushed his hands. In the darkness, lit only by faint moonlight, he thought he saw a tongue lick teeth in the universal gesture of a whetted appetite.

"In the next dark-moon you will have more." It was statement, not a request.

"As we agreed, you receive the medical nanobots and we continue to operate in this area." Captain Chayton replied.

Saying nothing more, the hooded figure walked away with the nanobots.

"Why do you think he wants with medical nanobots?" Asked the sergeant.

"I don't know, but I hope it does not come back to haunt us."

"Could we not find somewhere else to set up our operations, Captain?"

"This is the Intelligence Section's ballgame, Sergeant. They are the ones who set this up. I have to admit, besides our friend there, we continue to be unobserved. This Quarantine Zone is truly a place forgotten by the rest of the UCAS."

"Corporal Black Dog did report a helicopter three days ago, Sir."

"It didn't come near here, so it was probably just a fly over. A lot of smugglers fly over this way, it may well have been one of theirs."

"Yes, Sir."

"Be at ease, Sergeant. No one ever comes here."

36


	5. Chapter 5

The ghoul who had taken the packages from the soldiers crawled into the tunnel his kind had scrabbled out of the earth with their claws years ago. In his arms he cradled the boxes he had been given by the Sioux, the prize his master has been waiting for. The ceiling and sides of the rough tunnel were covered in a writhing mass of tendrils that were really the hyphae, strands of living tissue of a fungal growth known as Chorus.

Chorus was aware of the ghoul's return, although this close to his epicenter, his awareness faltered. Many of the rope-like strands, which connected each of the black growths on the surface into one continuous organism, were dead. And it was through these, and the black fern-like growths above, that Chorus was able to sense the world around it. The soil above was completely drained of nutrients and it's spiritual life force, for Chorus fed on both. With the essence of the land was drained, and nothing else to feed upon, parts of Chorus had begun to die.

Chorus was a thing both of shadow and the natural world, a fungal blight that consumed the living essence of the gaiasphere. Its existence was an antithesis to the creation of the Sixth World, a new form of death that had arisen from Howling Coyote's Ghost Dance as surely as the new life of the Sixth World had emerged from the medicine man's actions.

To continue to exist, Chorus had to expand its mycelium, its root-like network of hyphae that it used to absorb the life from the land. These ran like cables under the earth to sprout into the open into the black fern-like extensions it used as both sensory and feeding organs. But Chorus was capable of sustaining only limited growth. After covering dozens of square kilometers, Chorus had reached its maximum potential, and could expand no farther. Without the capacity to expand, it would be a victim to its own hunger.

The discovery that there was a way to continue its expansion had come accidentally. Many of its strands of hyphae were prehensile, and to obtain nutrients and life force necessary for it to survive, it attacked and devoured whatever creature wandered into its grasp . One of these had been a man; a seeker of lost goods, and Chorus had snared him like a fish in a net. During its attack, its tendrils had punctured the man's eardrum, groping inward for the flesh of the brain. When the tendrils came into contact with its victim's brain, Chorus was able to access and dominate the man's mind. He could even to keep the brain alive after the body had been eaten and rummage through the man's mind at will. It could also use the brain to augment its own cortex.

Chorus found that vibrating by vibrating it hyphae it could produce sound and, in time, speech. Using its chamber as a sound box, Chorus had called the ghouls living nearby to it. Ghouls, by their nature were unsuitable for sustenance, and so it had left them alone. Now it called them, and formed a dark covenant with them. Using the awareness granted by its perimeter growths to track whatever comes into its sphere of influence, it would direct the ghouls to a source of food for them. When humans were discovered, they were brought to Chorus. Chorus and the ghouls, except for the heads, which he kept for himself, consumed the bodies of his victims. The heads were placed together like nerve ganglia in spots amid the twisted mass of the mycelium. Using its victim's brain functions, Chorus able to continue its expansion, devouring more of the land as it grew, expanding its own awareness..

Its victims were aware of their fate; many were quite insane now, and the ones who weren't still screamed in their minds at the horror of their fate. It was from this cacophony of tortured and broken minds that it drew its name. For its victim's screams formed a chorus of madness.

"Take the boxes to the men in the room." Chorus ordered the ghoul, its voice a reverberating inhuman whisper that echoed down the dank corridors of the underground passages.

The cyber-ghoul obeyed the voice of its god and scurried to the chamber, an old basement now converted to a laboratory. He passed by the ghouls, who were not cybered, which stood guard outside of the chambers the prisoners were kept. They scurried away from him, afraid because sometimes the Chosen, when the pain of their implants became too great, would lash out and kill anyone who came near them.

Computer screens and diagnostic equipment glowed perversely in the gloom of the ghoul-infested tunnel. Five humans, one an older woman with gray hair and a face worn with madness stood in a filthy lab coat holding a datapad, occupied the lab. The other four were her graduate students, three young men and a girl. They were younger, but no less filthy, than the older woman who was their professor. It was their near hero-worship of her that had led them to follow her into the rank pits of this hell. They gazed at the interloper with horror. The cyber-ghoul could smell their fear. They did not possess the same blind arrogance as their professor and they knew that there was no escape from this place. The ghoul smiled at them, relishing the day when he would rip the flesh from their bones and feel their warm blood oozing down his throat. They turned away from him in terror and his smiled got broader.

"What do you want?" Demanded Professor Peloni.

"I bring gifts, honored guest," he said mockingly.

"Give them to my students," said Professor Peloni in dismissal. "They know what to do with them."

The ghoul passed the boxes of nanobots over to one of the men and then left the room. Chorus watched everything from a macabre monitoring station. Originally there were six students who followed their obsessed professor into the labyrinth of the ghouls, but two had decided to escape back to the surface, and their heads, resplendent with Chorus' twisted roots, adorned the walls, still alive and looking down at their comrades. One was quite insane now and gibbered incoherently, but the other screamed out in his mind to save the girl, whom he loved. The four survivors were forced to look up at the severed heads everyday, knowing that they were alive, but not knowing that Chorus could observe everything through their eyes and ears.

Peloni had gone mad when her husband of thirty-four years had died. She had come here to these tunnels at the invitation of her longtime friend Dr. Bradford Goddard. It was he who had given her a ray of hope as her husband withered when he told of this place and how it, being a new form of life, could give her husband new life, if she would serve its needs. Peloni placed her husband's body in cryogenic suspension and she and her students had come her to serve Chorus. Their first task was to create The Chosen. The Chosen were ghouls with rough implants made from scraps of metal and old cyberware that served as Chorus' personal guard.

It was her indifference to the fate of her two students whose heads adorned the wall that had taught the survivors the extent of her madness. Despite its promises, Chorus cared nothing for any cures except one. It was sterile, its spores would not germinate and it dreamed of spreading its seed over the earth, finding root and then linking together to cover the entire world, sucking its life force like a spider sucking the life from a fly.


	6. Chapter 6

**4 July 2069**

**200 Kilometers west of Topeka**

**1500 Hours**

**(Note from author: This chapter should have been included as Chapter 3, but an error on my part left it out. This event occurs simultaenously as the events in Washington DC. As the story is not effected by doing so, I am placing it the story now. My apologies.)**

Captain Josiah "Bent" Bentley of the Lone Star Highway Patrol Unit knelt on the

shoulder of I-70; he was looking at the tracks in the tall weeds that waved gently in the

hot wind. Bentley had been a cop for thirty-five years and was still trim and fit, even if

his hair had turned silver years ago. He pulled the zipper of his flak vest down to help

him cool off in the searing heat. There were no parallel tracks of a four-wheeled vehicle,

just the single lines from the wheels of the motorcycles that had been hidden in the

weeds. Bentley stood up and looked west down the highway, the July sun had caused a

shimmer of heat to rise up in the air. His officers were searching the highway looking for

evidence. On the wind he could hear the faint buzz of a fixed wing patrol plane doing a

search of the surrounding area, looking for any evidence of the cargo hauler that been

reported missing.

"Same as before, sir," said Sergeant Boothe as he approached him. "The truck

was being tracked on satellite, then its beacon went dead and then communication from

7the vehicle's AI dropped out. Now the truck and its cargo are missing, completely gone.

Obviously, go-gangers made the hit, but what did they did with the truck we have no

idea. I wonder how they do it?

"Good question," said Bentley, "but a better question is where is the crew."

"This was one manned, Sir?" Asked the sergeant surprised. Most of the vehicles

operating out on the highways were completely automated.

"Yes, a husband and wife team, and this in no longer a hijacking case, it's a

kidnapping investigation, treat it as such Sergeant."

"Yes Sir, but I wish we had more to go on."

"They had to have left something behind, Sergeant. Find it. That's an order."

"Yes Sir."

Capt. Bentley went back to his command vehicle, a long van with air conditioning

units and satellite dishes on the top. He entered through the side door, and into the cool

interior. Video from the patrol aircraft was being fed live from the planes, he watched

over the shoulder of a patrolman as the fertile farmland of Kansas scrolled across the

screen.

"I haven't seen anything yet, Captain," said the patrolman manning the station.

"Let me know if you see something." Bentley said.

"Yes, Captain."

Now that was a fool thing to say, Bentley thought to himself as he sat at a

computer station. What else is he going to do if he sees something, send a postcard?

Bentley brought up a map on his own monitor of the state's highways system. He

ordered the computer to bring up every site where a cargo hauler had disappeared.

8Twelve red dots appeared on the screen. They were dispersed all over the state, and not

on single highway system. The Lone Star captain ran a pattern recognition program,

adding the latest hijacking position to the map. The results were negative, no appreciable

pattern appeared that would pinpoint a probable location of the hijackers whereabouts.

Next he brought up a sub-screen and reviewed the cargo manifests of each

vehicle. The cargos didn't seem to have anything in common, other than each one

consisted of valuable merchandise that would be easy to move on the black market. This

latest vehicle had been carrying weapons; the UCAS government had approved the sale

of some assault weapons to Denver's Defense Force. Regulations stated such a vehicle

had to be manned at all times, which is why the McKinleys had been on board the

missing truck. On a hunch, he reviewed the owners of each of the missing cargo haulers,

but he found nothing there either. They were owned by a variety of companies, some big

and some small. Another command brought up a list of insurance companies, and he

found that there were five different companies involved. Consolidated Mutual had taken

the biggest hits, but the others had lost significant nuyen as well. If it was an insurance

scam, it was wide spread.

Sergeant Boothe came into the trailer carrying a plastic evidence bag.

"Did you find something, Sergeant?" Asked Capt. Bentley.

"Trooper Subuh did, Sir. A blood splatter, it could be animal though. I thought I

would run it through the field analyzer to see what turns up."

"Proceed, Sergeant."

9"Yes Sir," replied the sergeant. He put the blood carefully into the analyzer,

which broke down the DNA of the blood, then connected to the national database to

determine its species of origin, and if human if a match could be found in the records.

"Looks like we got lucky, Captain. We got a hit on the blood, the DNA matches

someone we have on file."

"Put it on the big screen." Bentley ordered.

A few seconds later, the image of a man in a bright orange prison uniform

appeared on the screen. The man's narrow face was scarred and unshaven. His hair was

thinning, and his lips were twisted in a sneer.

"Jacob M. Hench," said the sergeant reading out loud from his monitor. "Age is

45, height 1.5 meters, numerous tattoos and scars. Criminal history includes multiple

convictions for burglary, assault, robbery, rape, and arson. Last known whereabouts,

Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. Released March 4, 2060 after serving a five-year

stretch for auto theft. No current address or known location."

"Well," said the captain, "we know where he was earlier today. I want this man

found. Check his background for any known gang affiliation and pull out everything we

got on the motorcycle gangs operating in the state. Check with the Feds; see if they have

anything and send a request to the ConFeds down in the CAS, maybe they got something

on him. This guy is the only lead we have, people, so let's not drop the ball."


	7. Chapter 7

**2 August 2069**

**Wichita, Kansas**

**0145 Hours**

"I wonder if it would have worked?" Jose finally asked, although he spoke to no one in particular.

"I don't know," said Frank, "but I have to give most of the money to my folks, anyway. My brother James is really sick and the medicine is expensive. I couldn't have contributed much."

"Yeah," agreed Jose, "I am going to give most of my money to my family as well. My sister works as a joy girl now, just to feed her children. I was going to give her the money; maybe she could quit and do something else."

"Then I guess it wasn't meant to be," said Grey, trying to sound philosophical even though he was crushed inside. He retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and then took the seat Gary had vacated.

"How much did you figure it was going to cost us to get everything we needed? Asked Frank.

"Hmmm? Oh, I figured we needed about eight thousand dollars to outfit ourselves and get some merchandise we could sell."

"Do we have any other options?" Asked Jose.

"I had another idea, but if you thought my first plan was crazy, you'll think my other idea is a lot crazier."

"What is it?" Asked Frank.

"Do you remember when you told me your mother had to sell some of her family antiques to a dealer when your brother got sick?"

"Yeah."

"There are a lot things that people will pay good money to get, old furniture and stuff. Let me show you something. My decker found this military footage in an old government archive in the Matrix. Watch it and tell me what you think."

The vidscreen flickered to life and a shaky image emerged.

"This is footage from a soldiers helmetcam," explained Grey. "It's old, from the time just after the Ghost Dance."

There was no sound, only an image of a small town city street at dusk. The cam moved left and right, showing other soldiers in old style camouflage uniforms. The face of another soldier appeared in the frame and his lips moved silently. Without sound, they couldn't make out what he said to the soldier with the camera, but the tension on his face spoke volumes. Suddenly, the cam flashed to the right and the muzzle of a weapon came up into view. From out of the shadows of the buildings came twisted, skulking forms. Humanoid, but with fingers ending in claws and large eyes meant to see in the dark. They came straight at the soldier with the camera, and the muzzle of the weapon flashed and the leading ghoul fell, but hundreds more were behind him.

"Fragging ghouls," Jose said in a ragged whisper.

Other muzzle flashes could be seen now, firing fully automatic and the leading ghouls jerked and danced at the bullets tore them apart. More ghouls, however, took their place and the wave of humanoids continued to move toward the soldiers. The soldiers turned and ran, less the flesh eating humanoids overwhelm them. They passed through the streets of the town, occasionally turning and firing at the rushing ghouls, until the reached what appeared to be a soccer field. In the middle of the field were military helicopters. There was no longer any sense of discipline, just a panicked flight spurred by the sheer terror of the monsters that sought to rip the flesh from their bones and feast on it.

Doorgunners on the helicopters tried to shoot past the fleeing companions, but the onrush of panicked soldiers hindered them. The soldier wearing the camera made it aboard the last helicopter, his friends pulling him inside as they fired out the open hatchways. The helicopter took off, leaving some soldiers on the field, but the ghouls soon overwhelmed them, and tore them apart in a feeding orgy. The soldiers on the helicopters continued to pour rounds into the seething mass below, but with little effect. As the helicopter ascended, the video footage stopped.

"That vid footage was shown only to the members of Congress and the President of what was then the United States of America." Grey explained to them.

"Where the frag were they when they shot that footage, Grey?" Asked Red Bear.

"In what is now the Quarantine Zone. In fact, this footage was one of the main reasons they created the QZ. I'm going to play that again, this time watch the background and tell me what you see."

They watched the gruesome footage again, but this time their attention was fixed on the background. Shops and businesses flashed by the camera, intact but dark and abandoned.

"Did you see?" Asked Grey.

"Yeah," said Frank, "there were all kinds of shops there, but dark."

"Jewelry stores, liquor stores, furniture stores, hardware stores, and a lot of others. Ghouls don't have much use for that stuff, and nobody goes into the QZ. It's all just sitting there, rotting away." Grey said.

"Your thinking we could go into the QZ and salvage the stuff from this town?" Asked Jose.

"I don't know what town the video was made in, but yeah, we could to go into the QZ and salvage some things. The military stopped patrolling the borders a decade ago, nothing comes out of the place, and nothing goes in."

"Your fragging right, it is crazy dangerous to go into the QZ, everyone knows that." Said Jose

"I'm not going to lie to you, chummers," Said Grey, "it's a desperate thing to try something like this. I guess the question now is, how desperate are we?"

"The docs say that the virus rotting away James' lungs is going to kill him eventually, if we don't get him some new lungs. A pair of lungs aren't cheap, twelve thousand nuyen apiece." Said Frank. "I guess that makes me pretty desperate."

"I'd like to take care of my family, too." Said Jose. "I got no future man, and neither do they. The fragging corps own everything and everyone and none of us have got a SIN."

"The elders often tell us that there was no glory without danger," mused Red Bear, "for us, it seems that we have no hope without danger."

"I am willing to finance the expedition," offered Grey, "but we won't be going first class. I got some ideas on how to get the things we need, but we are going to work hard to get ready, and I don't mean just getting the gear. We can't just walk into the QZ. We are going to have to prepare ourselves. The good news is that we have already started."

"How so, Grey?" Asked Red Bear.

"These game you were playing tonight. These types of games are based on actually UCAS military virtual training programs."

Grey went into the next room and returned pulling the end of a heavy steel box, about two meters long and wider than it was deep. He worked the combination lock on the side and opened the lid.

"When I found out I was getting thrown out of the army due to budget cuts, I helped myself to some things. I took my gauges and tools I used for working on weapons. When I was in the UCAS army, I use to search the old warehouses whenever I got the chance. I found this stuff stored in one of the subbasements. When the old USA began to break apart, the army moved a lot of things out of the areas of secession and put them in other storage facilities here in the UCAS. The times were so chaotic, this stuff was just forgotten."

Grey pulled rifle from the metal chest and said, "This is an M1 Garand, thought by many to be one of the finest infantry weapons ever made."

"That looks like one of the guns from the game we were just playing." Remarked Frank.

"Exactly," said Grey, "this is rifle used by the United States Army in the mid-20th Century. I have six of them."

"It's a fragging antique," said Jose. "Are you planning on selling these guns?"

"No, I plan on using them."

"You want to go into the QZ armed with a hundred and thirty year old gun? Gary was right, you are fragging crazy." Remarked Jose.

"I have fired the weapons myself," said Red Bear, defending his friend, " and it has potential. It is extremely accurate out to long ranges, and on the plains most shots will be at long range. This is open country chummers, the ability to hit your target at a distance is an advantage. The caliber is very effective."

"Frank, do you remember the training in the game they give during the tutorial?" Grey asked, and got a affirmative nod from Frank. "Then field strip this rifle and then reassemble it just like the Sergeant in the game instructed you."

Grey passed the gun to Frank who took it hesitantly at first, but then gained confidence and performed the manual of arms necessary to arm the rifle.

"It is just like the game," he said.

"Let's see if you can field strip the gun and reassemble it under three minutes, that's twice as long as the Sgt. Maggot gives you in the game." Challenged Gray.

Frank placed the gun on his right thigh and pulled the trigger housing out of the gun to begin the fieldstripping. He had the weapon completely broke down in a matter of seconds, and then he began putting it back together, easily beating the time of three minutes.

"That was easy," admitted Frank. "It's just like the tutorial in the game."

"Now you do it, Jose," ordered Grey.

Jose repeated the operation without any problems and once it had been assembled, he put the stock of the heavy rifle to his shoulder and looked over the sights mounted on top.

"What about ammunition?" argued Frank. "Modern weapons use caseless ammo, in the game this fired brass shells."

"There is a small company in the South Carolina that still produces ammunition for older firearms. They sell mostly to collectors. I can get ten thousand rounds for two thousand nuyen shipped to my cousins, and then we can bring it across the border ourselves and avoid the border officials and the import tax." Said Grey.

"How much nuyen do you have to spend?" Asked Jose.

"That depends on how much you two contribute," answered Grey.

"Like I said, Grey, I have to give most of my wages to my family to help my brother. I guess I can contribute five hundred nuyen." Frank said with an apologetic shrug.

"I can give that much too," said Jose, "but I don't know what I'm going to live on."

"With my wages from the grain elevator, your nuyen, and what I have saved up, we have about eighty five hundred nuyen."

"I would rather have one of the new Ares assault rifles." Jose said wishfully, like you get in the "Thunder in the Streets" game."

"So would I, but we don't have the nuyen. We go with these, or we forget about this whole thing." Grey responded.

"Then it looks like we go into the QZ with these." Said Frank.

"I guess I'm fragging crazy, too. I'm in.," acknowledged Jose.

Grey picked up one of the rifles, feeling its weight and admiring the feeling of power such a weapon gave. He looked at his friends and said, "We are going to have to use all of our resources if we want to pull this deal off. We have some weapons, but we are going to need a lot more supplies to pull this off. We are also going to have to begin training for the mission. It would be better if you two moved here, we can put you in the RV with Red Bear. There is enough space for you."

"Null sheen, chummer," said Frank, "I want to move out of that rabbit hutch I've been staying in anyway."

"I have been staying with my cousin, he will not mind me moving out. He's got five kids." Said Jose.

"Good," said Grey, "next we need to sort out what else we are going to need."

"Transportation to and from the QZ, and a way to move the stuff." Offered Frank.

"Lucky for us," observed Grey, "we happen to be sitting amid about a thousand vehicles. None of them actually run, but I am sure we can make something work. Frank, everyone knows you're a wiz at anything mechanical. I even got something picked out. We also have some machining equipment in the shop, it's old but usable."

"Food?" Asked Jose.

"We will have to buy some food," explained Gray, "but we are also going to hunt. It's ironic that what we can gather for free here would cost a pile of credsticks in a metroplex. Red Bear is our premier hunter and tracker, we will hunt and Red Bear can use that time for instruction in survival skills."

"We will need to learn how to shoot these guns for real, and not just in the game," said Frank.

"I can help with that," responded Grey, "I went through the military's marksmanship program and I can teach you to shoot. My family owns a farm a few miles from here, its was abandoned during the droughts. The only reason the place hasn't been foreclosed on is that no one wants it. We can get some military surplus uniforms, boots, hats, backpacks, water filters, and other items with what is left of our nuyen."

"You and I have both trained in martial arts, Grey but I am not sure about these others." Jose observed.

"I haven't done anything like that," admitted Frank.

"I have trained in my people's martial arts, stick and knife fighting. But instead of sticks we'll use machetes, it's the same moves. I could teach those." Offered Jose.

"I am familiar with wrestling, that is popular back where I came from." Said Red Bear.

"I trained in some of the Japanese arts, and I can train you in the use of the bayonet." Added Grey. "We can add unarmed combat to our conditioning exercises. We all need to be in top shape before we go into the QZ. There is a park not far from here the chipheads use, and no one goes there because of the problem they cause, but it has an obstacle course. We can do our early morning runs there. Red Bear and I have also built some weight training equipment and put it in the shed out back."

"What about optics, body armor, communications and medpacs?" Asked Frank.

"Medicine is going to be a problem. Red Bear knows a great deal about the use of wild plants for medicine, but I don't know where we are going to get medpacs from."

"The Red Cross offers first-aid classes at the hospitals, we could attend those and get some medical training." Said Frank.

"Good idea, Frank. Everyone, keep on the lookout for that kind of thing. Anything that can enhance our chance for survival should be utilized. I have a manual here, it was printed by the military, I wasn't suppose to have it, it's classified, but I traded a Special Forces soldier a couple of pistols I reconditioned at Ft. Benning."

The manual was in the locker as well, a real printed book and not an electronic datapad. Frank read the title out loud, "Improvised Equipment for Special Forces Personnel Operating in Underdeveloped Areas."

"Most civilian technology is derived from miltech. Automated vehicles like a handi-cab use brilliant missile guidance technology developed for the military. Other cars have hazard avoidance tech built in, which can be converted to range finders, targeting sights, and even nightvision equipment. Radar has been standard in vehicles for over ten years and global positioning has been standard for over fifty years."

"I think we are going to need someone familiar with computers and electronics to build these things," observed Frank. "It's beyond me, I think we are going to need a decker."

"What about the decker you hired to get the intelligence on the UCAS military?" Asked Red Bear.

"Sugar Blue? Well, I'm not sure about her really. The local deckers think she's wiz, but this is going to be a pretty rugged mission; I don't know if she is up to it. Although, she did ask to be included, almost begged me, really.

"Do we have any other options?" Asked Frank.

"I don't know of any,' answered Grey. "Unless you chummers can come up with somebody."

"Not really," responded Frank with a shrug. Red Bear and Jose both shook their heads as well.

"I have my doubts about her, but it doesn't look we have a choice. She usually hangs out at that decker bar on West Douglas called the Ice House. I will go and speak with her tomorrow."

19


	8. Chapter 8

29 August 2069

**Pratt "Helltown", Kansas**

**0150 Hours**

Helltown is no place for a cop to be, Capt. Bentley he thought to himself, at least not without a battalion of cops in full battle armor and a couple of APCs for back up. He turned his head as automatic weapons fire ripped through the night and red tracers sprayed upward into the night sky. Fragging gangers are celebrating by firing into the sky.

Helltown was slang for the town of Pratt. It lay just beyond the Green Line, the area patrolled by Lone Star aircraft. It was a haven now for smugglers, go-gangers, and people on the run. The airfield, built for B-29s in the Second World War, was by all reports run professionally, and its services were available to anyone with the nuyen, no questions asked. What law existed here only protected the crime bosses that ran the town.

The town was divided into two portions by a professional looking barrier. The northern half contained the airstrip, shops, businesses, and the homes of the town's "respectable" citizens. Armed guards were posted every fifty meters with heavy machine guns and grenade launchers pointed outwards. The southern half of the town looked more like an open wound. Go-gangers road in packs, eyeing rival gangers with hatred and a promise of violence, their motorcycles roaring incessantly like the sound of metallic surf. Helltown was officially neutral territory, but the blood feuds between the gangs flared up continuously. The only thing keeping the mass of gangers from open war was the knowledge of the swift retribution that would follow. It was not unknown for the leaders of Pratt's smuggling cartels to fire artillery into the town or have armed gunships hose a motorcycle gang with automatic fire and rockets. Also, there was the threat from the town law enforcement. The smuggling cartels that ruled in Helltown had found it expedient to project a more personal presence into the area south of the barricade to quell the restless trouble that always simmered there. The cartels had hired exactly one man, a heavily cybered mercenary named Starn who was the de facto judge, jury, and executioner of Helltown. They called him the "Iron Marshal" because of his extensive cyberware.

From out of the bar called the Post Office, a scrawny furtive figure moved out onto the street. With his artificial left eye, Bentley could see that it was his mark. Ronnie "The Rat"Melton was careful as he moved down the street to his rendezvous in the alley with Bentley. Bent had busted the Rat numerous times, and let him go more than once. He was worth more as a good snitch that another loser locked up in the system.

"What you got Ronnie?"

The Rat jumped at the sound of his voice, even though he was expecting him to be there.

"That you Bent?"

"You know it is, now what do you have?"

"Shhhh, not so loud, a fella could get dead real quick around here if he's found talking to cop. I got the information you wanted, I've been asking around see, about that Hench fella, but nobody knows him by that name. I then started to flash his picture around, saying he owes me money. A slitch at the Death Heads' place tells me he's a rider for Grinders. The Death Heads and the Grinders don't get along so good. Anyway, she tells me the Grinders got them a place about thirty miles from here. Its kind of compound or something, I ain't never been there, so I don't know."

"You got the coordinates?" Asked Bentley.

"Yeah, if you got the nuyen, I got the coordinates."

Bent held out a credstick, and watched Ronnie slot in a battered datapad. With his night vision Bent could see him smile, revealing black and rotted teeth.

"Here ya go, Bent." Said Melton handing him a data stick with the coordinates. Them numbers is gold. They will take you straight to the Grinders' compound."

"Okay Ronnie, you better be telling me the truth."

"Jeez Bent, ain't we chummers? I ain't never steered ya wrong before, have I?"

"Naw, I guess you haven't. You better take off."

"Yeah, take off Rat." A voice said from behind Bentley. Melton's jaw dropped and his eyes got wide then he turned and ran.

When Bent turned around he found himself staring into the yellow glowing cybereyes of the hulking Iron Marshal. In Helltown, he was the only person the gangers were afraid of. His reflexes weren't wired, they said, they were wires. More than one ganger had made the mistake of thinking to take him down. On the wall of the jail were blood soaked gang emblems ripped from the synthleather jackets of those same foolish bikers. Unlike Lone Star officers, Marshal Starn was an elected official. The smuggling kings in the town made sure he was elected during every election.

"A little professional courtesy never hurt anyone, Captain Bentley." Growled the Iron Marshall. "It is dangerous here, very dangerous. If one of the gangs finds out a cop is anywhere near, well it would get ugly."

"It's nothing you would be interested in, Starn. It's LSHP business, and it doesn't have anything to do with your town."

"If it doesn't have anything to do with my town, then why are you here?"

"I needed some information, I got that and now I'm leaving."

"You are looking for Hench, he's in a gang called the Grinders. The got a place southwest of here, just this side of the bridge on Highway 12. It sits in a shallow valley maybe a kilometer off the road south of the highway."

"Thanks for the info, Starn." Said Bentley stiffly.

"You see Captain, if you had just showed some professional courtesy, you could have saved yourself some nuyen."

"I'll remember that next time," Said Bent.

"See that you do, Captain Bentley. And you'd better tell your man hiding behind those oil drums over there that he is going to have to do better than that if he wants to hide from these eyes."

Starn stalked away as Sergeant Boothe rise up sheepishly from behind the barrels where he'd been hiding. Bentley turned to Sgt. Boothe and said, "What the frag are you doing here?"

"Sorry Captain," shrugged Boothe, "but Commandant told me to follow you on the down low. He didn't want you coming here alone, but you made such a big deal about not wanting anyone with you, that he called me in to tail you and make sure you got back in one piece."

"Dammit," spat Bent; "let's get the frag out of here. I got what I wanted."

44


	9. Chapter 9

**29 August 2089**

**Grinder Compound**

**0210 Hours**

While the Lone Star captain was calling for his ride, a solitary figure walked alone in the night with only starlight to show the way toward the very compound the Lone Star officer was seeking. It was incredibly dark, but he was as more a creature of darkness now than light, and the lack light meant nothing to him.

Ten years ago, the magic had left him when he had attempted a spell he was not powerful enough to wield. The event left him nothing more than a shell, another burned out mage who had fallen from grace. He had desperately sought to replace the power he'd lost and that desperation had led him into the dead lands of the QZ. He had found power there, dark and terrible, more blasphemy than arcane, and if he had made a deal with the devil to get it, he did not care. The black fungus of Chorus, properly prepared, gave him power. It was sweet and horrible like divine putrefaction. He named the source of his power Black Mana. Before he had the Black Mana he would have never dared to approach an armed compound like this, but now he walked with supreme confidence.

A dog barked, and he froze. A man dressed in gang leathers came to investigate whatever had attracted the dog's attention. The black mana mage could see him peering intently; his head cocked as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing was real. The dark robes he wore made him difficult to see. The ganger flipped on a flashlight and brought its beam to bear on him. The ganger's eyes got wide when his light shown upon him, but before the ganger could raise the alarm, he spoke a few eldritch words and an oily mist rose from the ground to feed upon the ganger's life. The ganger choked and gasped as the mist enveloped him. The dog, sensing death, fell silent.

The mist was an extension of a hunger that sought to feed on life itself. The ganger fell writhing to ground as the mist drained him of his life. If he had been able to, the ganger would have screamed as his cells were torn apart from the inside out. But the ganger died silently, scrabbling in the dirt. At his command, the mist lifted the dark mage up and over the barrier fence. Once inside, he sent the mist out again, searching out more life to devour.

When the last guard had been dealt with, he opened the gate to allow his hired murderers to come roaring in on motorcycles. He knew the Scalpers would relish the bloodshed. He knew a few of the Grinders would be taken back to the Scalpers farm to be eaten at their victory celebration.

Gunshots now echoed everywhere as the well-armed Scalpers gunned down the hapless Grinders with screams of raging joy at the bloodshed. The mist flitted here and there sucking the remaining life out of hapless victims. With each essence it devoured, its hunger grew and sought satiation. Such was its existence, such was it curse that it could never be satisfied.

Saying some more dark words, he flung out his arms and balls of dark energy flew out striking the buildings and making them ignite. One building was untouched. It belonged to the leader of the Grinders. The dark figure walked toward it, feeling the life within and wanting to devour it completely. The locked door exploded inward with a thought and he walked into the building and saw the gang leader, a bearded, greasy ruffian, with eyes wide with fear, cowering in a corner. His lover, a younger blond man who wore no shirt, had wet himself, the stain spreading across the front of synthdenim jeans, stood by a couch, frozen in fear.

He lowered the black hood of his robes, and the gang leader's eyes got even wider when he recognized who had entered his house.

"What do you want?" Stammered the gang leader.

"You failed me, Jolly. One of your people left evidence at the scene of a hijacking and now the police are coming here."

"Tell me who it was, and I will kill him for you." Bargained the gang leader.

"Ah, as you can hear, that is being taken care of as we speak. You have become a liability, Jolly. I'm afraid I must cut you lose."

"We would never rat you out, man. You can trust us."

"I'm afraid not, Jolly."

He raised his hand and the mist swept in through the open door and surrounded the two gangers and began to feed on them. They tried to scream as they writhed, but they could not. In moments their essences were consumed and the mist writhed looking for more, obeying its curse. The dark mage fought against its hunger.

Suddenly, he felt weak and he realized the power was leaving him. He had taken deeply of the black fungus to give him power to come here. Now, he was reverting back to his state of powerlessness. His head pounded and he felt as if he would vomit. The nausea passed soon enough, and he straightened up. He pulled the hood of robe up to cover his balding pate with its fringe of red hair. He must keep up the illusion of power, or his minions would turn on him in a heartbeat. He walked out into the embracing darkness.

43


	10. Chapter 10

29 August 2069

**Grinder Compound**

**0530 Hours**

As the eastern sky was getting light, Lone Star helicopters carrying assault troops swooped in on the Grinder's compound. Clouds of dense smoke were rising into the air from the still burning buildings. Throughout the compound, they could see bodies of men, women and children lying on the ground. The first helicopter touched down and Capt. Bentley led the assault force out of it. Other teams landed, disembarked and efficiently went about securing the compound. Within fifteen minutes, the compound had been searched and secured. No one was found alive.

"All teams, I was situation report right now." Demanded the captain over the tactical frequency.

"This is Alpha leader, we got nothing but bodies here."

"This is Bravo leader, we got the same here."

The rest of the squads reported the same and Bentley looked around, both sickened and furious. Someone had wiped out an entire compound of people to keep him from finding Hench.

"I want this place turned upside down. Identify these bodies and find their next of kin. I want them questioned. These fraggers were killed to keep us from finding out who is behind the hijackings. Well, this is mass murder people, and somebody is going to answer for it. We are going to find the fraggers who did this and take them down."

"Captain," a trooper said over the radio, "we got motorcycle tracks outside the compound. We can see where they came in and where they lead away from here. I don't think they belong to these poor fraggers, they seem to all cluster in a stand of trees over there, like they were trying to stay out of sight. I guess a rival gang rode in here and took them out."

"Stop guessing and get a forensics team over there now. I want the identities of the fraggers who did this."

The hours passed and Bentley watched his men move with a methodical precision. Bodies were put into body bags and placed in the back of a commandeered reefer truck. A mage from the forensics team was conducting a ritual, trying to conjure up information from the spirit world, or wherever his kind got their information. Patrol Sergeant Boothe and one of the forensic mages came up to him. Boothe with a black pistol in a sealed evidence bag.

"We found several guns," the sergeant said, "that have RFID tags that match the ones listed on the cargo manifest of the arms shipment that was hijacked a few weeks ago. We also found one of the kids wearing a ball cap with the trucking company's logo on it. We think it was the husband's. We'll check for a DNA match, but it looks like these fraggers are the ones who took down the truck. My hunch is they killed the man and his wife and kept some souvenirs for themselves."

"Do we have any lead on who wiped them out?"

"Not yet Captain. Even if we find out who did this, I'd bet a week's pay that they were just hired guns. They probably won't even know who hired them."

Capt. Bentley did not acknowledge the sergeant's observation, even though he knew he was probably right. The investigation had come to another dead end.

"We don't even know how some of them died," said the Forensic Mage, a tall thin with spectacles. "The bodies farthest from the compound buildings, we think they were the guards, are dead without a mark on them. I would guess they were killed by magic, but they could not have been."

"Why?" Demanded Bentley.

"All acts of power leave a residue, and this one is no different. Our spirits went crazy when they got near the bodies. We questioned them, but they were speaking gibberish. We have to do more research once we get the bodies back to headquarters."

"Alright," acknowledged Bentley, "But keep looking around here for anything we can use. Since there aren't any firefighters around, we'll have to wait for the buildings to stop burning. When they do, go over them carefully. Maybe we can find something there."

"Sure thing, Captain," replied the forensic before he left to go back to his work. The patrol sergeant followed him, but as he was walking away he stopped and turned back, his face pinched and his manner hesitant. For a second Bent didn't think he would say what was on his mind, but the trooper finally asked him a question.

"Sir, how did they know we were coming?"

"Somebody told them, Sergeant. Someone who knew what we were looking for and who decided to remove anyone who could identify them. Whoever that was, they're a ruthless fragger, wiping out the entire compound just to hide their identity."

Bentley thought he knew who had told the hijackers employer what the LSHP was looking for, but he'd have to be careful. Marshal Starn was a dangerous man to cross.

54


	11. Chapter 11

**29 August 2069**

**Sioux Nation Security Force Headquarters – Cheyenne, Wyoming**

**0630 Hours**

"Have we gotten any more intel in from our team in the UCAS?" Asked Lt. Colonel Chapa of the SNSF's intelligence section as came into his office with a hot cup of soykaf in his hand.

"Yes, Colonel." The sergeant on duty replied. "CAS aircraft have stepped up air patrols along the Pueblo Council's border. They have also established a supply center in Amarillo and San Angelo in Texas. Other sources are confirming that Shreveport as being established as a major hub of military supplies and personnel."

"Are they worried about an attack from the Pueblo Corporate Council and Sioux Nation Alliance, or are they preparing for a preemptive strike against us?" Asked Chapa rhetorically.

"Sir," asked the sergeant, "are we planning on attacking the CAS?"

"I don't know, Sergeant. I really don't, but I sure would like to. The Chiefs of both Pueblo Council and our nation have been talking a lot lately, and our treaty with the Council has made the Anglo's uneasy. But, we have to be careful, if we weaken ourselves too much fighting the Anglos, Aztlan may launch a land grab. The Pueblo Council isn't strong enough to fight both of them, and even if we won, we would be too weak to stop a land grab from the UCAS. Has there been any sign of a military buildup along the western border of the UCAS?"

"We pulled something off the news nets, Sir." Answered the Sergeant. "One of their Senators is pushing for civilians to be recruited to act as scouts in the western plains region."

"Really?" Asked Chapa. "I don't think we will have much to worry about from civilians playing soldier. The UCAS may be much weaker than we thought if that's the best they can do."

"Do you think UCAS will ally with ConFeds if a war does happen?"

"I don't know that either. There is no love lost between them, but they are both Anglo states, and they work together, especially if they think they can regain territory lost after the Ghost Dance. I suppose we better look into their capabilities a little closer."

"Sir, I don't think anybody is in a condition to start a war." Mused the Sergeant.

"That's never stopped one from starting before, Sergeant."

"Yes, Sir."

42


	12. Chapter 12

**29 August 2069**

**Wichita, Kansas**

**0730 Hours**

While the Lone Star captain was looking over his crime scene when Grey buzzed Sugar Blue's comm unit.

The girl, who had obviously been awakened from sleep, mumbled a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Are you still interested in getting a drink?" Asked Grey, his manner brusque.

"Who is this?"

"Grey Braddock."

"Sure, I guess. What time is it?"

"What time do you get off work?" Asked Grey, ignoring her question.

"Um, at 1500."

"The Ice House, can you meet me there after work today? Grey asked. "I got something I want to discuss with you."

"Sure, but I got to make a delivery after I leave work this afternoon."

"Okay, can you make it by 1630 hrs?"

"I think so."

"See you then," Grey said reaching for the disconnect button.

"See you then, chummer. And Grey, you're real charmer, did you know that?"

Grey ignored the jibe as he hung up on the decker. He sat on the end of his couch, and wondered what he was doing, what he was planning seemed crazy, but he didn't see any other way to escape the poverty that surrounded him. He knew he was just a junkyard rat, but there were a lot of people worse off than him. To run the shadows, to live outside the system and make his own rules, that thought inspired him. Tearing pieces off of junk cars was no way to live, there had to be more than this. He would make it happen.

The Ice House was a decker bar in the Delano district. Matrix connections allowed the users access to the cyberworld. Even when it was crowded, the place possessed an eerie quiet about it. The deckers ignored each other, or at least they ignored the meat sitting next to them. It was possible that they were in deep conversation, but their minds were projected into the virtual world of the Matrix. Grey moved through still bodies, looking for one in particular. He found her in the back, her black hair framing her round face. Sugar Blue was lost, floating in a digital datastream somewhere; her eyes shut against the reality of the Sixth World. Grey sat down opposite of her slotted his credstick in tabletop and tapped the electronic drink menu built into the tabletop to order. He didn't know if she was much of a decker or not, she had something of reputation among the local decker geeks, but it was strictly small time stuff. However, he didn't have a lot of options, and if he were honest, he would have to admit that he was still small time as well.

His drink arrived and he lit a small cigar and blew smoke into the air. The cigar was made from real tobacco, a gift from his cousins in the Confederated States who grew their own tobacco. Grey watched Sugar, as her face remained expressionless. He could see her eyes moving beneath her closed eyelids and the corner of her mouth twitch. She wasn't a petite girl, thick in the middle, but not unattractive with pale skin and dark Goth makeup and black clothes. Her fingernails were also black with small circuit designs painted on them. He watched them fly over the touchpad of her deck. Impatient now, he reached over and wiggled the fiber optic cable where it jacked into the table. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first then finally coming to the conclusion that reality existed.

"Hoi, you," she said as she regained her composure after being awakened from her electronic dreams.

"Hello, Sugar."

"I knew you couldn't resist my charms for long, you just had to call me and set up a date, didn't you?"

"This isn't a date, Sugar." Said Grey, "I'm here on business."

"Oh pooh, you don't have a romantic streak in your body, do you?

"Not today."

"It's always the same with you men, all you want is mattress time, you don't know how to treat a lady"

"Maybe that's because there are so few ladies left in the world."

Sugar stuck her tongue out at him and then said, "At least you can buy me a drink; it is your party after all."

Grey slotted his credstick again and Sugar selected the drink she wanted.

"I want you to slot this, review the material, then we will talk." Said Grey as he slid her a datachip. The chip contained all the information he had gathered in the last few months. She would be familiar with some of the information, since she had collected it, but not all of it. Sugar was silent as she put the fiber optic cable from her deck into to her datajack behind her ear. She slotted the datachip and her eyes lost focus as the images on the chip played directly into her brain. After a half-hour she removed the datalink and refocused her eyes on Grey.

"Are you serious about this, chummer?" She asked as she tried to hide her nervousness by picking up her drink the waitress had brought while she had perused the data.

"Yes," he said as he sipped his own beer. "That's the deal, we go into the QZ, we salvage whatever we can and we get out. We don't have a lot nuyen, so we are going to have to make do with the resources we have. A lot of the stuff we will have to make ourselves. We need a decker who is familiar with electronics and programming that can interface a lot of disparate equipment together. That decker would also be in charge of collecting intelligence, that means we need to know what items to look for when we are in the QZ, and we will need access to satellite images, weather data, and other navigational aids. You would also be in charge of communications.

The plan is to salvage enough to upgrade our equipment and buy the other things that we need. We plan to go operational in the early spring. In May of next year, as you know, the UCAS military is going to be conducting training for the Civilian Defense Corp, and we plan on being there. That means everyone will have to be able to pass the requirements to join. Once we are operational in the CDC, and we are allowed access to the restricted areas, and that's when the real nuyen will be made. We will be running a smuggling operation from the CAS to the Native American Nations, where we already have contacts in both nations."

Sugar sipped her drink and did not speak. Grey wondered if she was going to accept the offer. He could tell the thought of going into the QZ scared the drek out of her. Hell, it scared the drek out of him, too.

"What are you paying?" She finally asked.

"You get an equal part in the sale of the stuff, after we get the team's equipment settled. Once we start operating in the restricted areas, you'll get an equal portion same as the others. However, the there will be a ongoing team fund to pay for the equipment that we use."

"But," Sugar observed, " we could end up with nothing or we could be eaten by ghouls in the QZ."

"Both are legitimate possibilities." Agreed Grey.

"That's not a very good offer, chummer." She said.

"Then don't accept it."

"You aren't trying very hard to sell your idea," Sugar pointed out.

"Not to you."

"Why don't you like me? I have never done anything to you."

"Like you? I have never thought about whether or not I liked you. It's a matter of trust and I don't necessarily trust you."

"Why?"

"Because you remind me too much of my chiphead uncle, that's why. You wear the dark makeup around your eyes to hide the circles. You're tired because you spent most of the night in the fantasy world of the Matrix. What I'm trying to do here isn't a fantasy; our hoops are on the line in a big way. The clothes and the hair and all that is a dodge, you're hiding behind a persona in real life just like you hide behind a persona program in the Matrix. When the drek comes down, and it will, I am not sure you could handle the reality. You wouldn't be able to jack out of this game and if you don't do your job, our hoops burn. It's a simple as that."

"If you don't trust me, why did you ask me to join?"

"You are the best decker in this town, although that may not be saying much. There is a lot of work to do and we can't afford any mistakes."

"The Matrix is a lot more real than you think, people die in there all the time, if that isn't real then what is?"

"Blood and flesh are real," emphasized Grey, "and that is what we are dealing with here. Your hoop will be in the middle of a ghoul pack just the same as ours, if things go bad. The rest of us only had one question to answer, whether we were desperate enough to try this. You get to answer two questions. Are you desperate enough and can you handle reality of the training? This whole thing will be tough, dangerous, and desperate and that is the only real promise that I can make you."

"I can handle it," Sugar said looking into his eyes.

"Do you want in?" Asked Grey.

"I'm losing my job in two weeks, the shopping plex is closing, and then I won't be able to afford that horrid little place at the coffin hotel. I don't have any family, none that I'm close to anyway. So what am I going to do, work as a joygirl? Too many of them now as it is, and some of them are starving because people can't even afford that anymore. Am I desperate? Yes, desperate enough to go into the QZ and get my hoop eaten by ghoul."

"Ok, you're in," said Grey. "You can move into my place, we will all stay together. We will train hard in the early morning and in the evening, running, combat training, and other calisthenics. During the day, we will be working either at jobs or on our equipment. I'm dropping most of the nuyen on this run, you will need to contribute for the food and whatever else we may need."

"When do we start?" Asked Sugar.

"The training starts in two days, but if you want you can save yourself some nuyen and move in tonight."

"Okay, that would help." Agreed Sugar Blue.

"Do you need to go and get your things?" Asked Grey.

"Chummer, everything I got is in my backpack."

"Let's roll out of here then and I will introduce you to the rest of the team."

Sugar rode on the back of Grey's bike, holding on to him tightly. They burned down Douglas Avenue until they reached the west side of town. The gate to the main garage was still open and Gray could see Red Bear and Frank working on a car. Grey pulled to a stop and they dismounted the motorcycle.

"Hoi, chummers," Grey said. "This is Sugar Blue, she is the decker I told you about."

Both Red Bear and Frank greeted the decker in a friendly but cautious manner.

"I have already explained the basic plan," said Grey, " but I want to go over the particulars of what we are doing. Someone needs to go shopping for food, we can't be ordering from the stuffer shack every night."

"Jose went to tow in a car." Said Red Bear. "He said he would do the shopping afterwards."

"So ka, good." Said Grey. "What are you two doing?"

"Changing out a power conversion unit on this Toyota," said Frank, "a chummer said he pay a hundred nuyen for us to do the work. You had one out back, older model but it still fits. I figured that if we are going to be staying here, we might as well earn our keep."

"That's good, but where is my uncle? He should be doing that."

"Your uncle is in his room," said Red Bear quietly.

Just by the way the ork spoke Grey knew his uncle was lost in his BTLs again.

"What's your uncle going to say about us all living here?" Asked Frank.

"Who cares," stated Grey offhandedly, "he's too far gone in those drek BTLs to run the place. As long as he remains chipped up, he probably won't even know you're here."

Three hours later, Grey and Sugar had gone through the plan to upgrade their equipment. Grey had to admit to himself that he was impressed with Sugar's knowledge of electronics. She elaborated on what would be necessary for the equipment, but was confident that it could be done. Later, the rest of the team came in then, carrying sacks of food. Grey introduced Sugar to Jose. Jose had volunteered to be the team's cook and set about making dinner for everyone.

"I'm going to take the pickup out early tomorrow,' Grey announced yawning, "and pick up the stuff we need."

"Oh yeah? Asked Frank. "Where you going?"

"I'm going out to Helltown."

"That's a rough place, chummer," said Jose, "I think I will come with you."

"Perhaps I should come too," said Red Bear.

"Count me in, chummer." Said Frank.

"Somebody will have to ride in the truck bed, there won't be enough room for all of us in the cab."

"I will ride in the back. We will need to take weapons with us," asserted Red Bear, "and I can shoot better than these guys."

"In your fragging dreams!" Protested Jose, and a friendly argument flared up until it was decided that a contest with the simsense game would determine the best shot and who rode in the cab of the pickup.


	13. Chapter 13

"What do you mean?" Asked Grey, somewhat startled at the sudden appearance of the man.

"You had some interested observers in that bar, I saw them perk up when the troll mentioned someone named Rat. When y'all were talking, they lit out of there in a hurry. I figure they're rounding up some friends. We better get out of here fast."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Asked Grey.

"Oh, I'm coming with you and if you haven't noticed I'm a buffalo shaman, and I think you are going to need my help today. Can you hear them motorcycles coming this way? Sounds like a whole lot of 'em, don't it?"

Grey did indeed hear the sound of approaching motorcycles, and a sudden feeling of anxiety came over him. He turned to his friends and said, "Lets get out of here, now!"

Grey ran for the driver's door while his friends and the shaman, who was very spry for his age, hopped in the back of the truck. Grey floored the accelerator pedal and they took off, the tires squealed in protest as they made their way around sharp corners. They passed out of the town's rough gate, trying to avoid the worst of the potholes, as they accelerated down the old highway. Less than half a mile outside of Helltown, they saw a swarm of motorcycles in pursuit.

"Grey," shouted Jose, "they are coming after us."

"Get ready to fight, chummers, it's going to get ugly," Shouted Grey in response.

"It gets worse, boys" shouted the shaman, "those yahoos in the saloon were Scalpers, they are the worst of the lot. People say they fry their brains on drugs so they don't fear anything. They ain't gonna stop until all of them are down."

Repositioning themselves among the load in the back of the truck and getting as low as possible, they pointed their rifles over the sides of the truck "Don't be afraid to take the long shots," shouted the shaman as he pulled an ancient revolver out from beneath his robes, "you might get lucky."

When his friends started shooting Grey tried to watch the action in the rearview mirror, but the pockmarked road was difficult to navigate and required all of his attention. In his side mirrors, he could that the big motorcycles being driven by the Scalpers were navigating more easily around the craters in the highway. They were approaching quickly, and the sporadic fire coming from them began increasing and rounds began thunking into the sheet metal of the truck. Firing on full automatic from a bouncing motorcycle meant the Scalpers were mostly burning holes in the atmosphere, but eventually one of them would get lucky and hit the truck. Jose let out a stream of curses in Spanish when a Scalper bullet burned a line along his ribs.

The only advantage Jose and Red Bear had was a slightly more stable platform to fire from, although the way the truck was bouncing, even that was problematic. When Grey saw one of the pursuing go gangers fall from his bike in his mirror, he gave a grim smile. Good job guys, he thought to himself. Although he knew they were in a desperate situation, the thought of giving up the package never occurred to him.

The black man climbed over the load of equipment to lean down to yell into the cab from the window. "There is a road, a dirt road, about two klicks from here, turn down that road."

"Why?" Grey shouted back.

"Because you can't outrun these guys and I got an idea that may help. Just turn down the road, you'll see what I mean."

"Are you sure?" Asked Grey suspiciously. He didn't like taking orders from someone he didn't know.

"Yes, I'm sure, turn right up ahead by an old dead Cottonwood tree."  
A bullet passed through the safety glass of the back window, and through the windshield.

"Ok, tell everyone to hang on, I'm going to take the turn on two wheels."

"Hang on, we're gonna turn hard in a second!" Zed shouted to the others.

Two of the pursuing motorcycles accelerated and came along each side of the truck. The Scalper on the driver's side bike had a companion armed with a full-auto shotgun. The driver pulled up close to allow his passenger to spray their targets with deadly fire. But they got too close, and Red Bear lunged out and caught hold of the shotgun's barrel and with a mighty heave he pulled the shotgunner off the motorcycle, ripping his finger off and sending him bouncing along the road. A bang sounded in Red Bear's ear, making it ring fiercely, as the shaman fired his ancient Colt Peacemaker .45 into the cycle's driver, sending him crashing into the ditch.

The biker on the passenger side pulled a machine pistol up by the strap that held it to his body and prepared to fire a burst at them. Jose tried to take him down, but the wildly bouncing truck caused him to miss and his rifle threw out the now empty metal ammo clip.

Cursing in Spanish, Jose was reaching for another clip when Grey threw the steering wheel hard to the left and the truck left the highway on two wheels just as he promised. The Scalper's burst went wide at the unexpected maneuver and he had to drop his weapon again and use both hands to slow down before he turned to follow.

The truck barreled down the dirt road, which was even more jarring than the highway had been, but as he looked in his rearview mirror, Grey understood the wisdom of the maneuver. Great billowing clouds of dirt followed the truck acting as a screen from the incoming fire of the go-gangers. That should slow you down, Grey thought to himself.

Anyone capable of rational thought would have slowed down, but the Scalpers burn out the parts of their brains that produces fear and inhibitions with various chemical cocktails so they would not fear death or injuries. They simply revved the bikes to go even faster to try and get out of the dust and find their quarry. Some even continued to shoot, not caring if they hit one of their own.

Zed leaned in again and shouted," This end of this road is coming up fast. The old bridge is gone, you wont be able to go any further."

"Then why the hell did you tell me to drive down it?" Demanded Grey.

"Because I'm betting that the Scalpers don't know the bridge is out, and they aren't going to see it until its too late. Just before we get to the bridge, turn off the road to the right and go up the small hill there and we will cut through some fields and pick up another road that will lead us back to the highway. But when he get to the top the hill, I want you to stop for a few moments, I got a surprise for our friends back there."

Because he didn't have a better plan, he agreed to follow the man's advice.

"What's your name?" Grey asked.

"What?"

"I said, what's your name?"

"Oh, you can call me Zed," laughed the black man.

Zed then began to chant, ignoring the bullets whizzing past, and called on Bison for assistance. His spell began to work and he used the power of the wind to bring the flying dust together, not letting it dissipate. A dark obscuring cloud of dust was soon following close behind them.

Grey saw the broken bridge coming up fast and the hill Zed had mentioned. In his mirrors, there was nothing but a brownish wall of dirt behind them, but the automatic weapons fire coming from within the dirt cloud told him they were still being pursued. Grey turned off the road and drove up the low hill as instructed, but the blinded go gangers continued straight ahead through the thick dirt cloud until they found themselves launching _en masse_ off the broken end of the bridge. The creek the bridge had once crossed was not a large one, and many of the gangers would survive the fall, but they were effectively out of the chase.

Grey brought the truck to a halt at top of the hill as instructed. They had a good vantage point to watch the gangers below, some of which had escaped the trap that had been set for them and when they spotted their quarry again, they open up with all they had. Zed chanted once again and dust devils sprang to life from the fertile Kansas soil and began pursuing the gangers, wrapping them in a choking, swirling mass of dirt and sand that abraded flesh and robbed them of sight and breath. The young shadowrunners took advantage of that moment to bring their weapons to bear on their enemies, dropping them with well-placed shots.

Zed pounded on the roof of the cab when he was done and Grey drove on, finding the road as Zed had promised was there and eventually getting back onto the highway. Although there was no sign of any further pursuit, Grey kept the truck moving as fast as he could away from Helltown.

When they arrived back at the salvage yard, Sugar greeted them, and the battle was relived again for her benefit. Jose's wound, although bloody, was not very deep. He proudly showed it off to the others. Grey introduced Zed to the others, the black man's leather face grinned at each of them in turn.

"Some of our stuff has holes in it," remarked Frank, as he was unloading the gear purchased in Helltown.

"We'll look at it tomorrow," said Grey tiredly, "and we'll have to fix the truck tomorrow as well."

"I can do that," volunteered Frank.

"Good, I'm going to take my bike at first light and deliver this package. I should be back before noon, easy. We are going to delay our training, and concentrate on getting the equipment and the truck back into shape."

"We're still missing someone." Said Zed.

"What?" Asked Grey puzzled. "Everyone is here."

"No, there is one more coming."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, I am here, all of us are here, because we must be. I saw it in a spirit vision. But I also saw another, who was not clear in the vision, who would come later."

The young shadowrunners looked at each other in bewilderment.

"My friends, I am shaman; specifically I am a buffalo shaman. During one of my spirit visions I saw that we were all suppose to meet. That is why I was in Helltown, I was waiting for you."

"Why are we supposed to be together?" Asked Frank.

"Because you are planning to go into the Quarantine Zone." Zed said to their amazement. "We have been brought together to stop whatever unnatural thing is there."

"How did you know we were going into the QZ?" Demanded Grey.

Zed sighed and explained again, "Like I said, and I saw you all, or at least your totems, in a vision. In my vision you were all running toward the QZ. Something unnatural is there and we must stop it, it is making the land groan under its weight. I have come to use my magic to help you. I was sent by Bison, or The Great Buffalo Spirit if you prefer, he was the one who told me what you were going to do."

"Grey, it is obvious this man is a man of power," said Red Bear. "Among my people, such as he are given great respect, not only for their power, but also for their wisdom."

Grey stared at the older man, gauging him as best he could. Grey was not someone who trusted lightly, and he definitely didn't like others knowing his business. But he decided to let the matter go, saying, "Lets all get some sleep, it has been a rough day. Jose, would you show Zed where he can sleep?"

Grey decided he would find out more about this man tomorrow, vision or no vision, he was fragging mad someone knew their business.

68


	14. Chapter 14

31 August 2069

**Quarantine Zone**

**1230 Hours**

"Will the destruction of your hijackers delay our progress?" Came the whispering voice of Chorus echoing down the ghoul tunnels.

"Not seriously," replied the black mana mage, "and it was necessary. One of them had left evidence behind and was being tracked. My other pawns have eradicated everyone who has had contact with them, including the one who gave the information to the authorities."

"I will not be happy if my timetable is not kept."

"Patience Great One," fawned the hooded figure, "this delay will be nothing. I am already working on bringing in another group to begin our activities once again."

"Perhaps," said Chorus, "you should focus on what I want and less on cargoes that you can sell for your own profit, my friend. You should be aware of whom comes first in your schemes."

"Great One, I only take what I need to keep the operation going. Without the other cargoes we hijack, I could not afford to keep your efforts going."

"That is a convenient lie. Keep the medical equipment coming, for I would spawn soon and spread myself over the face of this world. So far, I have allowed you the freedom to pursue your own agenda, but now I grow impatient. It would be wise for you to pay heed to my demands."

"I only serve you, Great One," the hooded man said, "and you shall have what you desire."

"That is well, my friend. See that you do not forget it."

The hooded man left the tunnels and walked to the small helicopter where a nervous pilot sat waiting at the controls. As soon as he saw his employer, the pilot began the start up sequence on the little electric Sikorsky Sprite helicopter. The electric motor limited the range and payload, but it was quiet and quick and served as an aerial taxi in the urban sprawls. The retractable power cable and the Solar panels built into the frame of the helicopter would allow it to recharge anywhere.

The dark mage pulled off his dark robes to reveal a middle-aged man, balding, and dressed in business casual slacks and double knit shirt with a well-known reptile brand icon.

Dr. Bradford Goddard had been a mage and one of the premier experts in the world on magical artifacts. Since the return of magic, and the creation of the Sixth World, many long dormant items of power had begun to return to life. He had thought himself to be a great mage, but when he had sought to bring forth the power of a forgotten Aztec pyramid in the jungles of Atzatlan; he had been undone by the sheer power of the spell he had attempted.

But now, with the Dark Mana he derived from Chorus' growths, he once again felt the rush of magical power within him. He detested the ghouls of course, nor did he care much for his servitude to Chorus, but he only served the Blight out of necessity, and for the moment. When he had Chorus' viable spores, he would destroy the parent creature and grow his own fungi, and no longer be a servant.

"A call came in for you, Mr. Goddard," said the pilot as he lifted off and swung the chopper around and headed back to Helltown.

Goddard put on the secure communication headset and spoke with Grainger, the leader of the Scalpers. When he heard the news of the pursuit of the people carrying the package and its subsequent fiasco, he berated the scalper and gave him dark threats, although he wasn't sure how effective his threats would be on the brain damaged ganger.

He wasn't terribly concerned about the contents of the package, although it was possible that somehow information about his activities had leaked. Mostly he wondered how so many of his minions could be bested so easily. He would begin making inquiries into the identities of the people who had done this.

79


	15. Chapter 15

1 September 2069

**Wichita, Kansas**

**1319 Hours**

"What the hell did you do to my truck?" Yelled Walter Braddock, Grey's uncle. Walter was a scarecrow in oily mechanic's overalls. His balding pate was surrounded by a halo of gray hair. His eyes were haunted by his simsense addiction and his shoulders stooped making him looking much older than he was.

"It got shot up by some go-gangers yesterday when I went to Helltown," answered Grey as dismounted from his motorcycle. He had made the trip to Topeka and was feeling good about the nuyen he been paid after making the delivery.

"What were you doing Helltown?" Uncle Walter demanded.

"Shopping."

"Shopping? You don't take this truck anywhere without my permission. And I want all of the fraggers you got hanging around here gone."

Grey stood up and whirled on his uncle, "Listen you fraggin' chip-head, this truck belongs to this business, and I run this business. Now, if you want to stop rotting your brain with BTLs, and actually run this place, feel free to fire me. That is if you think you can handle the real world for more than hour at a time. If I go your screwed, you'll be on the streets inside a month and you know it. I'm the only thing keeping this place alive, and if I want my friends to stay here, then they stay here."

Walter Braddock withered before the anger in his nephew's face. He was angry too, but the boy was right, Grey did run this place and he was as dependent on Grey as he was the illegal chips he used to survive his days.

"I'm just saying you need to respect my stuff and you need to respect me," said Uncle Walter, trying to push an argument he'd already lost.

"I will respect you when you start respecting yourself." Answered Grey hotly.

"You be careful Boy," threatened Walter, "or one of these days I will throw you out."

"One of these days you won't have to," retorted Grey. "You'll wake up from one your chip-dreams and find me gone."

"Don't think I can't replace you. I'll be just fine, Boy," said Walter, although he knew it was a lie. He stalked off, slamming the door to his office. He had a right to be angry, dammit! That boy should have shown him some respect. If only his Maggie hadn't died, then he wouldn't have needed the chips to survive. Looking down he saw his simdeck sitting in open drawer of his desk. The last chips he got were good, really good; he'd just play one, just for a little while, just to calm down. Walter Braddock slipped the jack into his skull and let the electronic feelings of euphoria wash over him.

Back in the mechanics bay, Frank continued to patch the holes in the truck and Zed sat nearby, handing frank the tools he needed."

"You were hard on him, Grey," the shaman said.

"So?"

"BTLs are hard to kick."

"It was stupid of him to get hooked on them in the first place."

"Was it? Do you know why he started using them?"

"My aunt died and I was away in the army. When I came back, he'd been frying his synapses for a year. We had some big fights about it, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"Sometimes life is hard," mused Zed, "and we find something that relieves the pain, so we take it."

"BTLs are drek," snapped Grey, "and everyone knows it. All you have to do is look at the droolers you find in every ally and empty building to know what is going to happen to you if you take them."

"To some it may be the only medicine they can find."

"Medicine for what? Life?"

"Yes, or at least the pain of life," answered Zed.

"Life hurts, it's tough, and you just have to suck it up."

"Not everyone is strong enough to endure the pain."

"Then I guess the BTLs are doing us a favor by culling the weak from the herd." Grey snapped, tired of the subject. "That's the way of nature isn't it, shaman?"

"It is for the beasts, but not for mankind." Responded Zed.

"That's an odd thing for a Buffalo Shaman to say."

"Shamans embrace the power of their spirit totems, and they do take on aspects of their totem, but they are still men."

"Nobody knows what a man is anymore, there are too many variables, too many augmentations, too many races." Grey retorted and stalked off.

Zed said nothing but went outside and found a chair behind the garage and sat down. He wasn't angry; he had been around on this world too long to let a hotheaded young pup fire him up. But he was concerned about Grey. The boy had a lot of anger in him and a lot of fear and many a bad decision has been based upon those two emotions. Pulling his harmonica out of his pocket he began to wail a tune.

Red Bear could hear the wail of the Zed's music reaching him as he walked to the shed where he and Grey had been practicing their fighting skills. He sat upon the empty floor and folded his legs underneath himself and breathed in the odor of old oil and grease. Relaxing his muscles one by one, he tried to himself to a point where he was both tranquil and alert, as he had been instructed in the elders in the Bear Clan. The elder warriors had told them the noise inside one's head often hides the truth from one's heart from being heard

The Clan House was their meeting place. The Bear Clan are all metahumans and warriors proud of both their traditional human and metahuman lineage, even if they were not overly loved by their human tribal brethren. Honor was everything to the Bear Clan warriors, and they guarded it jealously. Their spirituality was an eclectic composition of traditional beliefs and techniques and ideas brought in from the rest of the world. John Sky, the Bear Clan's first shaman, had received many of the techniques from the Great Bear Spirit while his soul wandered the spirit world. John Sky had brought back the Great Song of the Bear Clan. The Clan sung the song during every new moon in the Clan House. The Great Song was strong medicine and it made them powerful.

The traditionalists in the Ute Nation did not accept the Bear Clan's spirit medicine, they had spoken against it, saying that it was not apart of their past. But the Bear Clan had argued that they themselves, as metahumans, were something new and that the world was new. With the coming of the Sixth World, a new medicine had come into this world and had created them. But whatever their opinion, all of the Ute Nation were forced to accept the Bear Clan, for they were powerful warriors, and the Ute Nation needed them.

Red Bear breathed in, chanting the Wind Song, seeking the state of mind where his thoughts would be clear and light like the whisper of the wind in the pińon trees. However, his thoughts squirmed like fish in net, slipping away into the past and resurrecting emotions he'd rather keep buried. Annoyed, he tried to bring discipline to his thoughts, but it was fruitless endeavor. He was about to give up on his meditations, when he realized that there might be more going on now than mental distractions.

Taking a deep breath, and trying to relax, he let his thoughts run free as he chanted the song of Leaping Deer, this meditation chant would bring back memories to the consciousness mind, clear and vibrant. He could relive memories in the fullest sense of the word, but where the memories were clear, they were not directed. The subconscious was allowed to run free like the deer and the chanter would see past their own false constructions of self and see themselves for what the truly were.

Red Bear swayed softly as he chanted, and he recalled the time of the last Bear Dance he spent with his people. The Bear Dance was his people's spring rite to awaken the bear, the spiritual totem of the Utes. The Bear Dance was a great celebration, but on this occasion a dark foreboding had wrapped itself around the tribe like a shroud. Everyone knew that Red Bear was going to kill Antero, his best friend and clan brother, for stealing his betrothed Ina, from him.

In his vision of the past, Red Bear could see the crowd of people standing around him outside of the Clan House. So vivid the recollection, he could see the time on Jack Hartskil's watch. Antero stood in front of him, just out of reach of Red Bear's knife. There was no fear on the smaller ork's face, but the knowledge of death weighed hard on him. Ina stood nearby weeping in harsh sobs. Red Bear was the greatest of the Clan's warriors and he stood there, his face covered in black ash to show his shame at the betrayal of his friend and fiancé. But his hands were covered in ochre, the red earth a sign that the blood of the one who had betrayed him would erase his shame, this was the way of the Bear Clan. He grinned a death grin at his erstwhile friend, a ferocious sight with his white tusks offsetting the dark ash smeared on his face.

But the faces of the elders were hard when they forbade any violence during the time of the Bear Dance. Red Bear had, reluctantly, obeyed the elders, but vowed he would go into the mountains and return after the dance to restore his honor with the death of Antero.

There were no more memories to come after that, and Red Bear took a deep breath to clear his head and to release the knot of tension between his shoulders. The pain of the betrayal was still there, not as sharp, but deep and wicked. His soul was wounded he realized and the wound was festering. A warrior's strength is in his soul, and now his was weakened. This, he thought, would be restored when he killed Antero. But had not Bear, the spirit of his tribe and his clan, led him here without his vengeance? Red Bear was sure it was no accident that he was here. While on his weeklong exile, as he waited for the Bear Dance to end, he came across the tracks of a great bear. The tracks told a strange story, the bear had circled a pine tree several times, as if it had been dancing. The trail was fresh and his curiosity was aroused. He followed the tracks, expecting to see the bear that had made them any minute, so fresh were the signs. He never saw the bear, but was compelled to follow the tracks. Even when it rained during the night, Red Bear would wake to find fresh tracks in the mud as if the bear had watched him sleep. The tracks led him east, out of the mountains and onto the plains. He crossed the border of the Native American Nations, and into the UCAS, still following the sign of the bear's passing. By following the tracks, he found fresh water, game, and he avoided the most dangerous of the predators. It was obvious to him this was the work of the Great Spirit, and he followed his destiny to this Anglo city. The tracks stopped at the edge of the town, but Red Bear knew he had arrived at the place he was supposed to be. He went to one of the city's parks and being hungry, and not knowing any better, he killed a squirrel with his bow. As he was eating, he heard someone running, but a fog had come and he saw no one until Grey had appeared. The lanky anglo had stopped to stare curiously at the huge ork cooking his breakfast in one of the park's fire pits.

On the breast of Grey's running suit, Red Bear had seen a popular logo used by a clothing designer. The logo was a Native American pictograph that meant friend. Red Bear knew he had found the person Bear had wanted him to find. That is why he accepted the anglo's offer to stay with him. When the buffalo shaman had told his story, it had become even clearer that Bear had led him here.

Someday, he would return and settle with Antero, but for now he would fight along side his friend Grey. Yes, he knew he would kill Antero someday, and strangely that made him feel more than a little sad.

83


	16. Chapter 16

7 September 2069

**Wichita, Kansas**

**1413 Hours**

It took a week, but the team got all of their equipment repaired, even the truck looked good, once they painted it. Sugar had a good start with the electronics, writing the translation code that would allow the diverse pieces of equipment to function together.

She and Grey sat at a table, her with her deck running diagnostics on her code while he built various housings for their cobbled together equipment.

"You're doing a good job, Sugar," Grey said unexpectedly, catching the young woman by surprise.

"Wow, did you just give me a compliment?" Asked Sugar with her eyes large with mock wonder. "I think the temperature in hell just hit absolute zero."

"Well, don't make a big deal out of it." Grey said, annoyed at Sugar's over the top sarcasm.

"Oh, I would never do that, I'll just sit here and be grateful."

"What's with the attitude? All I did was say you were doing well."

"Oh thank you," continued the sarcastic Sugar. "I can't tell you what that means to me."

"Drek, forget I said anything." Grey, annoyed, left the table to go outside.

Sugar was surprised at how much she regretted what she had said. The compliment had been straightforward and ungainly, but that was Grey's way, which meant that it had been sincere. Her first impressions of him were that he was a jerk, a handsome jerk, but a jerk nevertheless. But in the past week it had become clear to her that he was really just scared. Frag, she thought to herself, I really shouldn't have said those things, but he can be such an ass.

The next morning her frustration with Grey did not improve. They were all running in Sims Park, hopping over obstacles designed to challenge the fitness minded. This was the first real day of training, and the others were handling in it stride, but Sugar was struggling. Grey would give her "that look" whenever she failed to keep up with the others. He never said anything, but she could feel his displeasure.

Embarrassed at her failures, she began to get angry. For frags sake, she thought, I am decker; my specialty is running the matrix, not running over a log hanging over a mud pit. The others had thumped over it without a care, laughing challenges at each other, but she had to creep along, making sure that didn't fall into the mud thirty centimeters below. Even Zed had had done it quickly, and he was an old man. They had thought him to old to train with them, but now he was proving to them that age had not slowed him down. The only concession he had made was not wearing his heavy buffalo robe. He was dressed like the rest of them, in a black t-shirt, combat fatigue pants, but eschewing the military boots to wear a pair of homemade moccasins.

When Grey finally called a halt to the training, the sun was up and the morning was turning warm. Hot, tired, and in bad mood Sugar went over to get a bottle of water from her bag.

"Please," came a voice tinted with a New England accent, "could you spare some nuyen?"

Sugar looked up to see a female ork sitting on a piece of broken playground equipment. Her blond hair hung down on either side of her face in long dirty braids. She had two bags sitting on the ground next to her, obviously her only possessions. She wore a blue jacket with the white dove logo of a local hospital.

"I'm sorry," said Sugar Blue, "I don't have any money. But I do have some food and water, if you want that."

"Yes, please," said the ork, I haven't eaten for a while."

Sugar gave the ork woman her soy energy bar and the bottle of water. She ate it quickly, obviously suffering from hunger. Sugar, even though she tried to be tough when faced with the harsh reality of the world, still felt great empathy for the homeless metahuman.

Sugar soon found out her name was Miriam Ferguson and that she had been homeless for two weeks since losing her job at the local hospital. Curious, the others came over to see what was going on. Zed saw the woman's jacket and its logo and nodded as if he had found the obvious answer to a perplexing question.

"This is Miriam," said Sugar in the way of introduction, "she is down on her luck. Do you think we can help her?"

Grey was already shaking his head no and was about to speak, when Zed spoke up to ask her about the logo on her jacket.

"I was a ER trauma nurse at Westmount Hospital," explained Miriam, "but I was let go when the corporation downsized last month."

"You must have a lot of experience with handling emergencies, like gunshot wounds and other serious traumas." Observed Zed.

"Well, yes I do. I was with Boston's Docwagon for seven years, until I was forced to transfer here a few months ago."

Zed grabbed Grey's arm to pull him aside and then said softly so as not to be heard, "She must come with us, she is the last of group that will heal the land."

Grey looked at the older man with annoyance and said, "I make those decisions, not you. We don't need another mouth to feed, we…I can't afford it."

"Son," Zed said, "I think today is your lucky day. You just found a trained medic with lots experience with bad wounds. You would be stupid not to offer a place on your team. If you can convince her to help us, our chances of living through this will go way up."

Grey was annoyed with the shaman, but he couldn't fault his logic. Having an experienced medic would be a valuable asset to the team. However, he was not sure if the nuyen would hold out. Orks were not cheap to feed.

"We are running out of nuyen fast."

"Still, this must be, I have seen it in my vision," persisted Zed.

"Your vision doesn't interest me, old man. But a medic would be useful to us, I suppose."

"Yes," agreed Zed.

"Miriam," Grey said as he turned to the female metahuman, "we could use your help with a…project we are working on. It could pay some big nuyen later, but right now all we can offer is a place to sleep and regular meals. Would you be interested in listening to what we are going to do? It's going to sound crazy and no one will blame you if you don't want to accept our offer."

"I suppose so," said Miriam cautiously, "if you think there is nuyen to be made. My children are at St. Michael's Children's Home because I cannot afford to keep them and I have no place to stay."

"We can't guarantee anything," said Grey with a serious face, not knowing if he really wanted Miriam on the team, "our venture is highly dangerous and speculative."

"I will listen to your offer."

The team returned to the salvage yard with their newest member and Grey decided to let Sugar Blue explain their mission. Sugar and Miriam sat together in the RV while Sugar outlined their plan and Miriam ate a bowl of soy noodles.

"So, you see," stated Sugar, " we are going where we are not suppose to go, and do what we are not suppose to do, and possibly get killed and eaten. This isn't the smartest thing any of us has ever done, but we are pretty desperate."

"How did you come up with this plan?" Asked Miriam.

"Don't blame me," Sugar said with a snort, "this isn't my idea. I'm just going along for the ride. Blame Grey, he's the one that convinced everyone to put their hoops on the line."

"It is a dangerous thing you wish to do, and I would say no to your offer. But…."

"But you need nuyen for you children," interrupted Sugar.

"Yes, I want to be with Eric and Emma so badly, but I can't because I have no place to live and no job. At least at St. Michaels they have food and place to sleep. Perhaps God has put me here for a reason and so I should follow my path that has been given me. Anyway, it is the only hope that I have."

"We are all pretty short on hope around here," remarked Sugar. "So will you come with us?"

"I will," said Miriam.

"That's wiz!" Sugar said, "I know we are going to good chummers."

"I hope so," said Miriam.

While Sugar and Miriam were talking, Frank and Grey were in the bay of the garage discussing their transportation. Frank was trying to sell Grey on his idea of his.

"A hovercraft? Do you really think that's a good idea?" Asked Grey.

Frank nodded his head, and said, "Yeah, hovercrafts offer a lot of advantages over wheeled vehicles. First, it's completely amphibious, so we wouldn't have to worry about impassable roads or bridges that are out. The terrain here is ideal for hovercraft, a whole lot of flat nothing. We can use the ducted fans from some of the bigger vehicles' engines, but we will use several of them instead of one big fan to help me steer it.

"We also have to consider that you want to run a direct hydrogen conversion engine, which is fine; it makes sense, since water is free and usually plentiful. But bigger units use more hydrogen, especially heavy ground vehicles, than most converters can supply, unless you want to drop fifteen thousand nuyen on one of the new Daimler engines. We would have to make regular stops to allow for the hydrogen to be processed. What we need is hybrid system where we can run a generator off a much smaller hydro-conversion engine to power the fans and we won't have to stop."

"What kind of payload will it carry?" Asked Grey. "It won't do us much good if we can't haul out the stuff we want."

"Payload shouldn't be a problem if use blower motors off the reefer trucks, they would provide plenty of lift. The initial launch will be slower than a wheeled vehicle, but it will be much faster on the top end, an easier ride too, since we will be riding on a cushion of air.

"What about control?" Asked Grey. "This won't do us much good if the wind blows us sideways across the prairie."

"Yeah, I thought of that, the best thing would be to have a lateral thrusters and the main fans would pivot to compensate for any crosswinds. I can use an internal gyroscope from that old handi-cab out back, hook it into the computer, and if we go sideways without intending to, the fans will compensate automatically."

"Do you really think you can build this and make it work, Frank?" Asked Grey.

"Yeah, chummer I can really build this thing, and it will be great for running out on the plains, it will be so low to the ground nobody's radar will pick it up, unless its pointing straight down at us."

"Ok, Frank," nodded Grey, "I'm going to trust you on this. Make it work or we're fragged before we even get started."

"Null sheen, chummer," said Frank with a grin, "this thing will fly fast and low, you'll see."

94


	17. Chapter 17

**22 October 2069**

**Braddock Farm**

**1025 Hours**

Grey turned down the overgrown driveway that led to the Braddock family farm. The large farmhouse was a two hundred year old structure flaking off bits of white paint. The windows were boarded up and the grass and weeds were waist high. There were several outbuildings including a large barn with a grain silo next to it.

Sugar Blue and Miriam rode in the cab with Grey while Frank, Jose and Zed followed in Frank's orange beater. Red Bear rode in the back of the truck, his rifle at hand in case any large predators came upon them.

Grey stomped up the front stairs of the house and unlocked the front door. The rusty hinges shrieked in protest. The interior of the house was empty and dust motes lingered in the beams of light coming through the cracks between the boards covering the window.

"Frank," said Grey, "do you think you and Jose can get the generator hooked up to the fuse box?"

"Null sheen," said Frank.

"Thanks. Once you get it that done, we'll see if we can get the pump for the well going so we can have water and sanitation. I am going out to the barn to get a ladder. I'm going to have to clean out the chimneys before we can light a fire in the stoves. I'll need someone to gather firewood and to unload the vehicles."

Miriam went to work immediately, taking their meager medical supplies into the house to start cleaning out the dust of many years neglect. Miriam had fit right in with the group, being stronger than a regular woman she had no problem keeping up with them, and her medical knowledge helped them deal with the inevitable aches and sprains that came up. Shy at first, they found that she was a warm person, a very devout Catholic, gentle and kind. The only problem, they discovered later that afternoon, was she could not shoot a gun. She was so terrified of them, that she would close her eyes and flinch, missing the target completely. Grey stopped having her train with the weapons to save the ammo, and that made both of them happier. She eventually told them the full story of her life, as they sat around a campfire by the farm's small creek that night. Although it was Autumn, the weather was mild. Far in the distance, they could hear the cry of some of the big cats turned loose upon the prairie by environmentalist during the confusion just the Ghost Dance broke the country up many years ago. They had flourished as prey was very plentiful on the plains. Grey had insisted they spend time outdoors, learning what it was like to live on the prairie without walls around them, and getting use to the fauna.

"My husband was a paramedic with Docwagon," Miriam spoke softly, "but he was killed in a gang battle back in Boston. He was caught in the crossfire between the gangers when he made a run to pick up an injured policeman. I had left Docwagon and was an ER nurse at one of the hospitals. A corporation from Japan bought the hospital, and several of us were transferred here, or to other facilities. They said it was "resource allocation".

"Let me guess," interrupted Frank, "everyone who got transferred was a metahuman, right?"

"Well, not all, but most of us were." Agreed Miriam.

"Everyone knows how the Japanese Corps love metahumans, the fraggers." Exclaimed Frank.

"They would have had to buy out our contracts," explained Miriam, "but the contract states that they don't have to if they have to close a hospital or downsize because of economic downturns."

"So they transferred you to places they already probably knew they were going to close or downsize, therefore getting rid of you without having to make a severance payment."

"Yes," agreed Miriam.

"Fraggin' corps, I hate them," said Jose vehemently.

"How much would you have gotten from them, Miriam?" Asked Grey.

"If I would have stayed in Boston, about sixty five thousand Nuyen because they had to give a years wages, plus match the hazard pay."

Frank gave a slow whistle and said, "That's a lot of money."

Sugar leaned over to hug her friend. The two of them, being the only females, had become constant companions. Sugar even went with Miriam to visit her children. Sugar said, "You could have built a new life for yourself, if it hadn't been for those motherfraggers."

"I try not to be bitter, and to trust in the Lord," said Miriam quietly.

"How about we get some compensation for you Miriam, and help this team out?" Asked Grey.

"What do you mean?" Asked Miriam puzzled.

"Ok, chummers listen up. Miriam here as given me an idea that could help us out, and we might get a little revenge on the Corp at the same time."

Grey could see that he had their full attention. The firelight shown in their eyes as they leaned forward to listen to him. "Now here's what I got in mind."

There were only a couple of hours of daylight left, and the team was eager to get situated. By nightfall, they had accomplished most of their tasks to Grey's sastifaction.

"We had better sleep upstairs, that way we can defend the staircase. There are two rooms, the guys will take the larger of the two and Sugar and Miriam can have the other. If we have to make a fast exit, go the window in the girls' room and onto the back porch's roof. I parked the pickup on the north side and it's only a short drop down."


	18. Chapter 18

**12 November 2069**

**Wichita, Kansas**

**0839 Hours**

"Haven't you sliced their computer yet?" Grey asked in a horse whisper, his impatience showing.

"Hold on a fraggin' second," answered Sugar, "I'm sleazing my way past their ice now."

Sugar's matrix icon was a blue sugar plum fairy that executed its programs via a magic wand that sparkled with tiny elf lights. Her fairy wings beat like a humming bird, as she went forward, hiding her presence in the Westmount Hospital's computer system with a mask program. An IC, or intruder countermeasure program, appeared before her like a gray android in a metallic business suit. IC, or ice as it was called, was what protected the system from people doing exactly what she wanted to do. It was unlikely that this system had black ice. Black ice was illegal IC that was could be fatal if encountered. The hospitals system was laid out like a virtual map of the real hospital, undoubtedly done to help people navigate the system, since it could be assumed that they were familiar with the physical layout of the building. Although she appeared to be herself, Sugar knew that anyone she encountered here would see her as generic doctor icon. Hospitals often had visiting physicians, and temporary icons were established so the doctors could access the online medical information. The temporary icons had limited lifespans; the computer would erase the icon after a set amount of time to avoid leaving holes in the system's security. The one that Sugar had hijacked was do to expire within a few minutes. They had timed the intrusion to coincide with the shift change, using the increased traffic to hide their operations. She knew she had to hurry, but she also had to be careful, they were only going to one chance at their objective.

She flew boldly past the IC, and it never registered her as an intruder, so she figured the mask was holding. The doctor's credentials got her into a terminal access point, an impossible long corridor with doors marked with the various subsystems. More ice stood in front doors marked accounting and medical files. These, she knew, would have much more stringent security protocols. But she did not seek access to them. She waved her magic wand and two small glimmering pixies appeared, search programs that immediately flitted down the hall, stopping in front the doors she needed to open. The first was easy to access; it was the fleet maintenance subsystem for the hospitals ambulance. She downloaded a maintenance request for one of the hospital's ambulances, showing it needed repairs that could only be done in a full service shop. The time slot would show that it had been issued on the previous shift.

The second door proved to be stubborn, the IC icon, a security guard dressed in a uniform with metallic sheen, stood guard in front of the security subsystem door. Using her strongest program, Sugar drew a large circle in the air and numerous pixies appeared, and began to buzz the security IC creating a swarm that blinded the icon. To the system, the pixies should appear as static, random glitches in the fabric of the matrix. Not a subtle program, but it was effective in distracting the ice long enough for Sugar to slip in. The ice began swatting at the pest surrounding it making each pixie disappear in a tiny cloud of gold sparkles, when the last was gone, it would surely notice the intrusion. Sugar knew she must finish before the last pixie was destroyed.

With another wave of her wand, another group of pixies appeared and began searching the security subsystem, finding the data stream they were looking for, they set up what appeared to by tiny mirrors, and the data stream, looking like a blue laser, was reflected in a series of concentric circles. The monitoring cameras in the vehicle bay were now in a loop mode, replaying the same scene over and over to the monitors. Sugar jacked out of the system, as soon the program was in place.

"It's the one on the far left when you go in," she told Grey, "Jose has three minutes."

Grey spoke into the commlink he was holding and said, "Go Jose, your on. It's the ambulance on the far left, repeat the far left, the one farthest from the door into the hospital."

They could see Jose from where they stood at a public communications node near the hospital. Jose didn't bother to answer Grey but left the comm-node and slipped unseen into the vehicle bay through the open doors. He walked over to the last ambulance in the row and quickly rolled underneath it. He used a small flashlight to find the data cable from the onboard computer and he pulled it free of its coupler. With the wires pulled loose, and hooked up a small dummy load to cable. The vehicle was no longer connected to its brain and it would not run, but the dummy load was a small computer that would send the appropriate signals to the onboard computer deck, should anyone check the diagnostic.

Finished, Jose rolled out from beneath the vehicle, and not seeing anyone, quickly walked back out the open overhead door and onto the street, walking hurriedly. Grey watched his small friend leave the building, hoping that he would not attract attention with his fast pace. Grey mentally willed him to slow down, but it was of no consequence, as no one noticed him.

"Three minutes, my programs are deteriorating now," said Sugar just as Jose made was back on the street.

Programmers left a signature whenever they made a code, some deliberately, as a matter of pride, others simply by the way they wrote. It was like a personal signature in real life. Her programs had a built in life span to them, so as not to leave a signature behind.

"Frank, we're up now." Grey was proud of the fact that he kept his voice neutral.

Zed had given them each a fetish, a talisman that gave the wearer a magical mask. Grey now looked like Earl Guzman, a competitor of his uncle. He also wore a jacket with Guzman's name on it to ward off the chill November air. Frank wore another's face as well, an ordinary face chosen at random from a simsense commercial. Grey walked around the corner to and climbed into the cab of a stolen tow truck. The truck belonged to a corp-owned car dealership on the west side of town. They had stolen it the early morning hours. Grey could see Frank swallow hard as the rolled up to the side entrance near the vehicle bay. The got out and walked to the entrance to the door. Before they got to, however, it opened and a hospital security guard, a sergeant came out.

"Can I help you?" Asked the Guard.

"You called for a tow, you need one of your ambulances taken in for repairs." Said Grey in a southern accent.

"No one called for any repairs," responded the guard.

"I got a message," countered Grey, "on my commlink early this morning. You folks sent a tow and repair request to the shop a few hours ago."

"I don't know anything about that," said the guard looking at them suspiciously.

"Well, here's a electronic receipt," said Grey, "handing his commlink to the guard. Can you check it against your records? If you don't need us, I got another run to go on."

"Wait here," said the guard, who went back through the door and returned several minutes later.

"It looks like there was a receipt generated, but there was nothing on our logs about it." Said the Guard.

Grey mentally kicked himself for not thinking of that, there would be a duty log filled out by every shift. He should have had Sugar hack that system too.

"Oh, don't tell me your graveyard shift actually forgets to tell you guys things." Grey said with mock surprise.

"Yeah," said the guard, "they do that all the time, the fraggers. Still, I don't know about this, its irregular."

"The diagnostic sent with the receipt showed a failure to start due to a defective ignition system. Why don't you see if it will start, maybe there was a glitch in the computer system, if it runs we, can forget about it and head out to our next run."

"Ok," agreed the guard, "hold on while I get the ignition codes."

Once again the guard left and returned, but this time he was carrying a small remote opening device. He pointed to the ambulance that Jose had rigged, "It's the last one on the end"

They walked past the other three ambulances and the guard opened the driver's door and tried the ignition, predictably, it didn't start.

"What's the onboard computer saying is the problem?" Asked Grey.

The guard punched up the auto diagnostic from the deck built into the dash and said, "Yeah, the computer telling me that the ignition system if fragged, I guess it does need work."

"Ok, you want us to take it now, or do you want us to come back later?" Asked Grey.

"Go ahead, I guess. How long will you keep the vehicle?

"Electrical systems a slotting tough to figure out sometimes, but we should have it back to y'all in a day or so."

"Ok, I guess you can have it."

"I will need you to sign off on our receipt and waiver before we can take it. Standard form, Guzman Towing isn't responsible for any damage done to the vehicle if something should happen to it in transit."

"Well, who the frag is responsible then?" Asked the guard has he entered his signature electronically.

Grey just gave a "who knows" shrug as he took the datapad back from the guard. He spoke, "We'll pull around and hook up and be out of your way in a minute."

They worked as fast as they could, without seeming to hurry. Grey could see the nervousness on Frank's artificial face. The spell was such that the spell's face showed the same emotion as the person's real face. Expecting to be busted any second, they finished hooking the ambulance up and drove away with their prize. They drove carefully, avoiding unwanted attention. They had disabled the tow truck's ID beacon that made it show up on the municipal traffic grid. Now the truck wouldn't broadcast its position all over the city's traffic net. But an electronically dead vehicle would soon attract the attention of Lone Star. They drove for several blocks until they pulled into an abandoned factory. There they met the rest of their team and the crew of gangers Jose had brought into the run.

Grey hopped out of the cab of the truck and told the leader of the gangers, "Ok, you know the deal, we get all the medical equipment off the ambulance and you get everything else. Strip both of them down to the frame and forget you ever saw us."

The gang leader nodded and then yelled to his people in Spanish to get started. Grey watched in amazement as the gangers stripped the vehicles to the frame in a shorter time than he thought humanly possible. All of the medical equipment, the goal of their run, was transferred to the bed of his truck. The gangers carried away the rest to waiting cars. When the last of the stolen supplies were loaded, Grey and Red Bear drove the truck out while the rest of the team followed in Frank's car. Grey could see in his mirror Jose's friends pouring buckets of toxic sludge from the north side plants all over the remaining bits of the vehicles and the warehouse area. The corporate waste sludge was so caustic, it would effectively remove any trace evidence they had left behind.

They drove carefully, minding all the laws until they came to the tunnel system that would allow them to slip out of town unseen. The tunnels had originally been built for trains transporting aircraft fuselages from a major aircraft manufacturer to load them onto flat cars. The plant complex lay in ruins above, and the tunnels had been forgotten for fifty years. The city's defensive barrier went through the middle of the massive complex, leaving an entrance a hundred meters inside the city limits and another outside the city's wall that could not be seen by the security cameras that lined the wall. Grey had heard of the tunnels from his uncle, who had learned of them from Grey's grandfather, a plant employee. Curious he had sought them out, when he found them he saw the possibility of using them for entering and exiting the city unseen. He and Red Bear had come one night and welded a locking mechanism on the doors that only they could open. The drove into the dilapidated building and Red Bear and Grey opened the massive steel doors that allowed access to the tunnels. Once both vehicles were through, they locked the doors behind them.

106


	19. Chapter 19

**12 November 2069**

**Wichita, Kansas**

**1310 Hours**

Miriam was waiting on the porch of the farmhouse when they pulled up, relief evident on her face. Frank jumped out his car and gave a whoop of victory. The others joined him in celebrating their first successful run in the shadows.

"We did it!" Yelled Frank laughing, and jumped on Red Bear, who bared his tusks in a wide grin, "We fraggin' did it!"

"Yeah, chummer," agreed a smiling Jose, "we totally fragged over a corp, and don't it feel good."  
"I am just relieved you are back safely," said a subdued Miriam, "that is what is important."

"Oh, come on, Miriam," admonished Frank, "you got to love it, we got a little justice for you."

"We do what we have to do," responded Miriam, "but that does not make me like it."

"Well," yelled Frank to the sky, "I fraggin' _love_ it."

The others joined him in his celebration. The stolen medical equipment was brought into the house and beers were handed out and Jose cranked on a stereo so loud the windows of the old farmhouse vibrated. Even old Zed joined in the festivities, drinking beer and making sarcastic comments that would at some other time would have been offensive, but were now considered hilarious by the fledgling shadowrun team.

The day turned into night and the initial enthusiasm had given way to satisfied feeling of success, and they sat in the living room, the lights powered by a generator, drinking the last of the beer and relaxing.

"So when do we go into the QZ?" Asked Jose.

"We are almost ready," answered Grey, "we have most of our equipment ready now, except for the transportation."

"The hovercraft will be ready in less than a month," Frank said in his defense, "it took me longer than I thought to hook up the lateral thrusters, but I think I got if figured out now. The first test run should be in two weeks, there will be bugs that will have to be worked out, but the design is sound."

"They made an announcement about the formation of the CDI program on the vidnews yesterday," said Grey. "They've moved the start date back to late May. We want to be done with the run, and have the stuff sold before that so we can buy new equipment and the stuff we are taking to the NANs. So, I figure we will go the last week in April. This gives us four months of additional training before the run; say a week to complete the run, and three weeks to dump the salvage before we report to Ft. Riley."

"What comes after that?" Asked Miriam.

"When I know for sure how much money we have from the salvage, I will get in contact with my family in the CAS. They will get the stuff ready for us, which is not a big deal since everything we will be buying there is legal there. The illegal part is crossing the border back into the UCAS without paying the import taxes, which is what really runs the prices up on Confederate goods. Once we have the stuff here in the UCAS, we contact Red Bear's people and arrange a meet. By then, we will be full-fledged UCAS military auxiliaries, with permission to run around the entire state, unhampered."

"Your plan seems to depend on a lot of things going right that could very easily go wrong," observed Miriam.

"I never lied to any of you," said Grey defensively, "this isn't the best plan in the world, but its our only option. I've bet everything I have on it because I really haven't got anything to loose."

"You know what I think," interjected Jose, "I think we are going to fraggin' make it. We aren't going in with our heads shoved up our hoops, we've been working hard to prepare for this and today has shown us that we can pull it off. Yeah, maybe ripping off an ambulance doesn't go very high on the shadowrun scale, but we were a team today and we did our run really, really well. If you consider what equipment we had to work with and the truthful fact that we've never done anything like this before, then you have to admit we rocked today. It was a perfect run. I checked the Lone Star alerts; the hospital hasn't even reported the ambulance as stolen yet, that's how good we did."

"I agree," said the normally taciturn Red Bear, "we did very well today. We are not without our abilities and talents. But I think we know our limitations, and that will serve us far better, I believe, than anything else. As Jose says, we have trained hard for this, and we will train even harder before we go on our adventure. If there is treasure waiting in the Quarantine Zone, we will find it and we will bring it back."

"Well," said Grey, "we go in the last week of April for sure then. When Frank gets our transportation running, we will start making excursions, camping and hunting, with Red Bear teaching us what he knows of scouting terrain. It will be cold, but we need to comfortable out there, we need to be able to handle whatever we come across because our hoops are going to be a long way from help."

102


	20. Chapter 20

**18 February 2070**

**Braddock Farm**

**1130 Hours**

"Hang on!" Yelled Frank as he threw the hovercraft into a three hundred and sixty degree spin.

"Frank, you crazy fragger!" Yelled Jose in protest, but all he heard back was laughter from the cockpit. For the last twenty minutes, Frank had been putting the craft through a series of acrobatic maneuvers that slammed his passengers around in their safety harnesses.

Jose, Grey, and Red Bear were hanging on desperately to the frame of the hovercraft, which Frank had christened "The Eagle" after Zed's spirit vision. Frank straightened the vehicle out and coaxed as much speed out of the three electrically driven props as he could. The Eagle skimmed over the short grass of the prairie, at a speed just shy of 200 kilometers per hour.

The hovercraft turned out larger than planned, being a full seven meters long, half that wide, and three and half meters tall where the fans attached to the back lateral support bar. The forward cockpit held the pilot and the nav/comm operator and was fully enclosed to protect their instruments. The cargo area had aluminum pipes arching overhead to which a canvas cover could be added to protect both the cargo and the passengers. Car seats bolted to the floor near the sides faced outward from the cargo area. Three high torque electric engines turned ducted propellers that could pivot thirty degrees left or right, which helped Frank steer the craft and allowed for the sudden turns that threatened to throw the passengers off like a rodeo bull. Smaller fans provided the lift and lateral thrust, which also enhanced the piloting of the craft.

The Eagle charged down a shallow bank and began skating across the half-frozen Ninnescah River. Riding on its cushion of air, the Eagle skated along its surface, hardly making a ripple in the water.

"We got thirty centimeters of clearance," yelled Frank from the cockpit as he raced to the river's steep bank. "And The Eagle can climb a forty-five degree slope with no problem."

The Eagle slewed left when it crested the bank of the river as the skirting gave way and the edge of the hovercraft dug into the soft earth. They were roughly jerked in their harnesses so hard the straps left bruises.

"Oh, frag that hurts," grunted Grey rubbing his shoulder.

"What do guys think?" Asked Frank with a grin as he emerged from the cockpit.

"I think I'm driving, that's what I think," answered Jose as he gave Frank a dirty look.

"Hehehe," chuckled Frank. "In your dreams, chummer, in your dreams. Man, I got to figure out what's causing the skirting to fail."

"Well," said Grey grimacing, "I guess this thing has potential."

"Oh, you guess, huh? That was fraggin' great! This thing is going to soar, thanks to yours truly."

"If we had the time, Frank, I scrap this thing and get something with wheels. But we don't, so you had better get this thing working properly."

"It will be ready," protested Frank. "I got most of the bugs out, this is just a minor glitch."

"Between you, this… turkey, and the damn weapon systems I wonder if we are going to get out at all." Complained Grey.

The weapon system was exactly what Sugar and Miriam were working on at the moment. Attached to front of each of the rifles was a laser rangefinder, re-purposed from salvaged automobile proximity detectors, which also served as infrared laser pointers that could only be seen by someone with nightvision or infrared viewing technology like the converted battle helmets they had gotten from Helltown. Originally designed for military helicopter pilots, the helmets featured integral night vision and thermal imaging as well as 10x optical magnification. Sugar was trying to get the range finder data to appear on the helmet's Heads Up Display.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows and continued to melt the icicles hanging from the eaves. The February thaw had come, and the day was warm and mild. With less than two months before the start of their mission, a new air of seriousness had overtaken them. Blisters, aches, and agonized muscles were ignored and the training progressed.

Sugar knew she would never be as athletic as the others, but her initial revulsion to things physical had given way to feeling of pride at being more fit and able to navigate the obstacle course easily. She was also a good shot without the electronic enhancements, but she was happy to stick with navigating and communication.

"What's the status on the weapons?" Asked Grey as he entered the house after walking the three klicks back to house from their latest crash site. He looked at sugar with those green eyes she found so intriguing.

"I just have to get the helmets and the rangefinders talking to each other over their wireless link, then they will be ready. It will take me another couple of days."

"Good, I want to run some night fire exercises next week, to get us use to the new gear."

"Then why don't you take your hoop out of here so I can get the work done," said Sugar with mock rudeness. In the last few months she had realized that Grey had accepted her as part of the team. She did not know why she felt good about that, but she did. But her conversations with Grey still consisted mostly of sarcastic remarks, but they were more from habit and neither of them took it seriously.

"Just don't put the range finders on backwards, like you did the last time." Grey responded as he left and Sugar stuck her tongue out at him.

When sugar looked over at her friend, she found Miriam smiling a knowing smile.

"What?" Asked Sugar.

"You like him," said Miriam with a giggle that seemed odd coming from a two meter tall ork woman with tusks and linebacker shoulders.

"I do no not," said Sugar defensively, but Miriam just giggled again and Sugar knew she wouldn't convince her friend of the lie.

"Is it that obvious?" Asked Sugar plaintively.

"Yes," Miriam answered with a smile.

"Oh my goodness," said Sugar blushing.

"Don't worry, Grey is a man, so he's clueless. Everyone else knows, of course."

"Well, its not like he likes me back or anything. I'm just somebody useful to his plan."

"Grey believes he's immune to needing or caring for people. It's a man thing, he will learn soon enough. But you got your work cut out for you if you want to have him for your own."

"What do you mean?" Asked Sugar.

"I mean I think you are going to have to fight for him." Said Miriam.

"Is he worth fighting for?" Asked Sugar.

"You tell me," said Miriam putting her chin in her hands and looking at Sugar expectantly.

Sugar blushed again, and trying to deflect the conversation away from her said, "I'm not the only one who has got it bad for someone here."

"Who?" Asked Miriam intrigued.

"Frank."

"Frank likes Grey, too?" asked Miriam in mock surprise and both of them giggled.

"No Silly, Frank likes a certain nurse he knows."

"Oh, now you're being silly. I am an ork, and I know humans don't find us attractive. He couldn't possibly be interested in me."

"Yes he is, it shows on his face every time he sees you. And who is always driving you to see your children, hmmm?"

"He is just being kind," said Miriam demurely.

"Does he play with them when you all are together and does he buy them gifts?"

"Well, yes he does".

"See, he is being nice to your kids so you will like him."

"I think you are exaggerating, Sugar. And I also think you are trying to change the subject. What are you going to do about Grey?"

"What is it I'm suppose to do? He doesn't even notice me, unless he wants something from me."

"I guess you will have to find someway to make him notice you."

"I don't know what I could do. But I don't think it will matter until after we go to the QZ."

"I will be glad when that business is done," said Miriam with a shudder.

"Yeah, me too." Sugar agreed somberly.

As the girls were talking, Zed was sitting on the porch quietly smoking his pipe, remembering times long forgotten by the world. He remembered when he first came to this land of big skies, almost two hundred years ago. He had been a trooper with the 9th Calvary, a Buffalo Soldier stationed at Ft. Riley to fight in the Indian Wars. Before that he had been a slave on a plantation in Georgia, and saw the great Civil War play out.

Freed, he had traveled west with the Army, to these plains and had never left them. The sweeping grasslands had become his home, much like it was the home to the thundering herds of buffalo that wandered now, as they had so long ago. It was good to see them back, those herds; of course other things had come that he could never had imagined. But it was good that such things happened. It kept life interesting.

His only regret for living so long was to having to bury his friends year after year and that was why he lived alone now. As the years came and went, death did not claim him as it had so many. He had aged, but remained healthy and spry. He could not explain his longevity; it was a mystery to him. But in his heart did not believe that things happened without purpose, he was simply too old to think otherwise. The panorama of history had played out before his own eyes, and the changes he had seen had been vast, but they followed their course like a river rushing to the ocean, certain and sure.

So now he was engaged with these children, for that is how he thought of them, but he found himself wondering about the camaraderie that he felt with them. Of the many things he had forgotten, his bond with the other troopers of his unit was not one of them. Truly, those friendships, born in the crucible of battle, were his greatest treasures and he would hold onto them forever, if that were how long his life lasted. He knew, he would eventually have to bury these young ones as well, and that brought a familiar sorrow to his heart. Part of him wished he had not made friends with them, but had no choice as Bison had chosen him for this quest.

He remembered when Bison had first called him, appearing in his dreams as he and his fellow cavalry troopers had camped under the panoply of stars that swung overhead each night. He had never told his friends about the dreams, lest they thought him mad. But Bison would come to him and speak of ancient wisdom that only he knew. He didn't have any power back then, not like now. The Ghost Dance, which Bison had foretold to him, had changed that and his power came to him and he carried it easily. Perhaps it was for this mission that he had been spared death all these years.

He puffed on his pipe and the smoke drift away on the breeze.

116


	21. Chapter 21

**20 April 2070**

**Quarantine Zone**

**0430 Hours**

The Eagle shook hard with violence of the storm. Sugar and Frank road in the cockpit, but the rest of them hung onto the straps attached to the support struts as the canvas cover flapped insanely in the wind. It was still dark at 0430 hours, and clouds that scuttled overhead would delay the dawn.

"Fraggin' hell, man!" Exclaimed Jose as he almost lost his seat when the hovercraft lurched to one side. "What are you doing up there?"

"Just hang on, we got hellacious crosswinds hitting us. I'm just barely holding us on course. We still making progress, but it's slow." Frank's voice sounded tinny over their helmet headphones. "Grey, do you want me to find a place out of the wind and stop until the storm passes?"

"Negative, as long as you can maintain control and we are making progress keep us moving. Sugar, are you monitoring our progress?"

"As best I can," Sugar answered, "the storm is playing seven kinds of hell with our satellite uplink, but I'm updating our nav system whenever I can get a clean signal. Just so you know, satellite images show two fronts on the North American Continent. This one, and another that will be here in four days." Announced Sugar from her seat directly behind the pilots seat. "We can expect rain, and lots of it for the next two weeks. Flash floods have damaged several pylons and parts of the power grid have gone out in several areas around the state."

"Any reason to divert from our present course?" Asked Grey.

"I don't see any," responded Sugar. "We are still on course to cross the river at the old bridge with a secondary crossing point on a wide bend of the river, should be less current there."

"Current won't effect us at all," said Frank, "since we are flying above the water, but we need to watch out for any debris in the rive. If a piece of debris catches us and rips the skirting, we're going swimming."

Grey stared out into space for a second, considering their options. "Ok, we cross at the bridge if we can. If we have to do an amphibious crossing, we will only do it during the day, so we can see if anything is in the water."

"Roger that," said Frank, "our ETA into the Quarantine Zone is seven hours, I think."

The weather seemed inauspicious for the launching of their endeavor. Still they had worked hard for many months and there was no way they were going to turn back or delay the trip. They tried to cover their nervousness with aimless banter, but nothing helped. Even Zed, who was usually annoyingly cheerful, was somber.

Grey made a mental note to have a nav monitor installed in the rear area so they could watch their progress. He flicked on a small red LED flashlight and looked over the satellite pictures they had printed out. They had chosen a circuitous path with abandoned towns set as waypoints along the way. There plan was to sweep through the QZ in a rough circle and reemerge near the point of entrance.

Grey clicked off the flashlight and let the compartment go dark again. He had always hated waiting. When he was still, when there were no distractions to hide him from himself, he became aware of the twilight that hung over him and the world. The twilight was not all black; it did not block the light out completely, because it embraced neither the light nor the dark, it was a void in life that tasted of old dust and failure. He had become aware of the twilight when his parents had died, and he saw it again as he watched his uncle destroy himself with the BTLs. Only when his mind was distracted could he force the knowledge of it back.

He knew that this expedition was born of his frustration and desperation, for his life has always been a battle against the twilight and lately it had been winning. His life had become nothing but an attempt to survive, with no purpose other than to keep breathing and eating for another day. If he could achieve his dream and become someone that controlled his own destiny, and then the twilight of failure would be defeated.

He was now betting their futures and their lives on finding lost treasures abandoned during the turbulent years following the Ghost Dance. Failure meant that the twilight looming over his entire life would win. But this was his moment; he felt it in his bones. Whatever is to become of me, he thought, will be determined in the next few days. I will rise or fall on what we find in this forbidden place. But have I done the right thing, bringing these others along? If one of them dies, their blood will be on my hands. That thought hung heavy on his mind and knotted his guts into a tight ball of fear.

They crossed the old bridge, a decaying structure beleaguered by the swollen river below. The team was unaware that the fierceness of the storm had been to their advantage. The black fungus, Chorus' sensor organs, was laid over in the storm and did not detect the passage of the air-cushioned vehicle when the team crossed over them during the storm.

The windshield wipers on The Eagle had been salvaged from a Toyota Land Rover, and they were beating fiercely against the rain that continued to pour down from the sky. Frank could only estimate their speed from his instruments as the storm impeded their progress. He had corrected the best he could, and now he could see the dark shapes of buildings emerging from the murkiness of the day.

"We got buildings up ahead. Looks like we've arrived at our first destination." Announced Frank as he brought the hovercraft to a stop in the lee of a building. The storm had abated somewhat, but the cold rain still continued to fall from the stormy April skies.

The team stretched knotted muscles and sore joints as they exited the vehicle, glad to be stopping after the long trip. Red Bear and Jose looked around for a convenient place to relieve themselves. Zed stepped out of the hovercraft, reluctant to put his moccasined foot down on the earth.

"This place is truly dead," said the old shaman with a pained look on his face. "There is no life anywhere. I think if you were to look with a microscope, you would find that there is no microbes at all anywhere."

"Yeah," agreed Jose as he returned, "there ain't nothing here but some scraggly looking black plants."

Grey adjusted the straps on his poncho to keep it from flapping in the wind. He was worried the old man would not hold himself together here in the QZ, and he didn't know what he would do then. He spoke into his helmet mic, "Let's get our perimeter defenses in place then Jose and Zed, check the buildings further down the street that way. Red Bear and I will go the opposite direction. Nobody is to leave this street, we'll move on to the next street together after we searched this one. Frank, Miriam, and Sugar will take the buildings closest to the craft. Everyone, call out if you get into trouble, and we'll do the same. "

Zed pulled out some fetishes and sacred items from his medicine bag and said; "I think I will add some extra help with our perimeter security." Zed began to chant and the rest walked away some distance to give him room.

As they waited, Grey had a silent hope that he sounded professional and competent giving the orders, because he sure didn't feel like it. What the hell do I know about running around the streets of what very well may be a ghoul infested town, he asked himself.

When Zed was finished, they walked slowly and cautiously down the street covering each other and watching the shadows for any movement. The abandoned buildings rose up on either side of the street, brick mausoleums in a necropolis.

"Don't forget to check the area with the infrared scanners on your helmets," Grey said into his helmet mic, "you might pick up a heat signature before you can see something."

No one answered him but he knew they were listening. Grey cycled through the various vision enhancements features trying to find one that would give him the best chance of finding what they sought, and to see danger before it got to close.

"This one?" Asked Red Bear pointing to a peeling white wooden door recessed into a red brick building whose windows were so grimy they could not make out what was inside. Grey nodded an affirmative and Red Bear used his prodigious strength to force the warped piece of wood to open with a protesting groan that echoed in the street.

"What was that?" Asked Frank over the headset.

"Nothing, we were just forcing a door open." Answered Grey.

"Roger that," came Frank's reply.

Grey and Red Bear made entry, covering each other with their rifles. The room they found small, with a counter bisecting the room in front of them. On the wall hung a water-damaged calendar from the year 2012.

Red Bear stabbed the muzzle of his rifle at the calendar and said, "The year of the Ghost Dance."

"Yeah, a helluva year, no matter what you think about it." Answered Grey. "Notice the logo on the bottom, 'Great Plains Insurance', I guess this place was an insurance office."

"We are not likely to find anything of value here."

"You're right, chummer. But lets take a quick look around anyway."

But Red Bear's prediction came true and they left the building with nothing.

"This is Jose," came a tinny voice over the comm units, "we found City Hall, and were going in to look around."

"Understood." Replied Grey. "Frank, how are you and the girls doing?"

"We girls are doing just fine," came Sugar's annoyed response.

"Keep your eyes open."

"Duh."

"I may have found something," announced Miriam.

"What you got, Miriam?" Asked Jose.

"It's a soycaf mug with a 'United States Marine Corp' written on it and a logo of some sort."

"Hell, that's a genuine coffee mug, not a soycaf mug, Miriam." Said Frank. "Good job."

"Keep it, Miriam." Said Sugar. "Military memorabilia with the United States logos have a strong market value."

"Yeah, good find, Miriam." Acknowledged Grey. "Let's all bring something back and then we can get out this place."

They searched the town, finding only a few relics to take back with them. The initial excitement faded in the cold rain pouring down out of the sky. The gathered inside the hovercraft trying to warm up and showing off the few artifacts they had found and expressing their disappointment that they had not found more. They decided to sleep and get a fresh start in the morning. Following the procedure Grey had developed; one person monitored the ground effect radar the turned on top of a collapsible mast and another person stayed outside, monitoring the immediate vicinity with night vision and thermal scans. Zed set a magical ward around their ground effect vehicle and he created a spirit watcher to alert them to any dangers from the astral plane.

124


	22. Chapter 22

Late the next morning, seventy kilometers further into the QZ, the team found itself looking upon the ruins of a town that had burned to the ground decades before they were born. In silence they boarded their craft and headed to the next site where they had more luck finding a collection of old coins, some of which were made of precious metals. There were other small objects that Sugar assured them had a high collector value. The cessation of the rain and the find of the gold and silver coins lifted their spirits and they spent the night around a campfire telling stories and bragging about nothing in particular.

Only Zed, usually the most raucous of them all, remained subdued. That night he created three watcher spirits to help guard them in the night and to supplement their electronic scans of the place. The rest of them teased him about his paranoia, but they could not get a rise out the abnormally dour shaman.

But the subdued paranoia of the old shaman was justified, for their presence had been detected, and in the tunnels that crisscrossed the landscape, thousands of ragged shapes followed their deity's command and converged on them from all over the QZ.

On the fifth day, in a forgotten little town with the unlikely name of Protection, they scored big. The main business district, a single street of old buildings, had been left undisturbed for fifty years. Red Bear and Frank spent most of the morning, cutting open a safe in a jewelry store. When they pulled tray after tray of gold rings studded with precious stones, their faces were alight with wonder and triumph. The rest kept Sugar Blue busy looking up auction prices for various finds. With limited room in their craft, they had to choose only the smallest and most valuable items. But it was Grey's discovery of a rat-chewed phone directory pinpointing an antique store just off the main street that netted them the most valuables. Even Zed's spirits picked up a bit at the enthusiasm of the young people as they loaded antiques onboard their craft, ignoring the great gusts of wind that blew cold spring rain down upon them.

Jose was describing in great and sundry detail his plans for how he was going to spend his nuyen on drunken debauchery, which brought howls of laughter from the team as the worked to load their hovercraft. The alarm on the ground scanning radar started to scream like a wounded barghest.

"What the frag?" Asked Frank of nobody in particular.

Sugar slipped into her copilots seat and scanned the radar screen.

"We got multiple targets, closing fast, hundreds of them all converging on us." She said in a rush.

The ghouls were pouring out of holes they had scrabbled in the red dirt and into the streets. Grey ran to the corner, flipping his goggles to see in the infrared spectrum. The ghouls were coming toward them like a wave of corruption. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder firing as fast as could, watching his targets stumble and fall only to be trampled by its compatriots who rushed forward in a fierce bloodlust. He screamed into his helmet mic, "Ghouls!"

The other's moved as fast as they could, climbing aboard The Eagle as Frank inflated the skirt and put maximum thrust on the fans. But the heavily ladened craft was slow and sluggish in its response. Grey ran as fast as he could and prayed that his friends would not hit him as their bullets as blossoms of fire appeared from the ends of their rifles as they poured fire into the throng of pursuing ghouls. An explosion ripped through the ranks of the onrushing ghouls, and Grey thought at first they had hit their perimeter mines, but then he realized Miriam was chucking their homemade grenades into their midst. When they did hit the perimeter, the pipe bombs went off in succession like a string of firecrackers. The surging wave of metahumans was forced back by the concussive force of the blasts and the odd bits junkyard shrapnel tore into flesh. But the ghouls recovered and surged forward again.

The metal clip popped out of the top of his rifle and Grey scrambled to get a replacement into the gun to reload. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that the hovercraft was not yet in position to flee. They had made a mistake, putting it in between two buildings to block some of the weather. Returning his attention to the attackers, he sent fire into the mass a quickly as he could pull the trigger. The fire, amazingly accurate considering how raw they were to combat, did little to stop the onslaught. They were about the get overrun.

"Fix bayonets!" Grey yelled.

The only protection offered by their position was the area acted as a funnel and forced the ghouls into a tighter formation. Hot brass hit Grey and he saw Sugar kneeling beside him firing her rifle that looked to big for her, but her aim was accurate and a ghoul fell screaming. Then they were upon them and the breech of Grey's gun locked open on an empty chamber again. He stepped forward and rammed the bayonet deep into the gut on of an onrushing ghoul and followed with a crushing butt stroke to the head of another. He realized that he did not have time to get the third ghoul leaping for him, its jaws slavering and its eyes red with its own particular brand of madness.

But then its head exploded in a red mist and Red Bear came up beside him firing the automatic shotgun they taken from the gangers on their trip to Helltown. The big Native American metahuman fired the weapon from the hip letting the .32 caliber pellets of buckshot rip through the flesh of the ghouls. The booming shotgun, barely under control of the ork, mowed the front ranks of the ghouls down like wheat under a scythe. The ork managed to clear a path for the hovercraft as the ghouls fell back again. Still moving sluggishly, Frank was able to move the hovercraft out into the open, but the numbers of ghouls had continued to increase until there was no where they could look and not see ghouls.

Grey swung on to the side of the hovercraft, and he saw Zed kneeling atop the artifacts they had collected, apparently oblivious the carnage around him as chanted softly. The ghouls had recovered and were coming forward once again, and the automatic shotgun was now out of ammo. Grey watched in horror as certain death moved toward them. But then he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as with electricity. The shaman, finishing the most powerful spell he knew, slammed his palm down on top of a table he was sitting on with a hard slap. When he did so, lightning crashed from the sky and radiated in all directions away from the team of adventurers. Only the automatic polarization of their helmets saved them from the agony of the blinding light, but nothing could stop the compression of the superheated air booming out and shaking their bones.

In a dozen meters in every direction, the ghouls were incinerated or tossed haphazardly into the air. The shaman, slumping over from exhaustion, had bought them enough room to escape.

"Head for the river," shouted Grey unnecessarily loud into his headset, "get into the middle so they can't get at us."

Frank worked the controls, the engines whining as they were revved to full speed and slowly the Eagle moved until they reached the sloping bank that lead to the river. As they went down hill they gathered speed, but the ghouls were coming again, even though hundreds were now dead. The hovercraft then slipped over the surface the river, which was swollen and raging from the heavy rains. Grey worried that their loot would get ruined in the rain, when the canvas cover blew off and whipped in the wind.

The first line of ghouls, heedless of the danger, threw themselves into the rushing current, trying to reach their prey. The strength of the current was too much for them and they were swept away, leaving an impassable barrier between the team and the ghouls. Frank spun the hovercraft until it faced downstream. The proceeded as fast as they could, moving slowly at first but gaining speed. Thousands of ghouls lined the riverbank, scampering along, looking for an opportunity to attack. Some of them, frustrated at seeing the prey escape, hurled rocks and debris at the team, who responded with well placed rifle fire.

My God, thought Grey we did it, we got away! Just then, leaping from the bank across twenty-five meters of water, a grotesque parody of a cybered street samurai slammed into hovercraft. Surprised the skirting hadn't failed upon the impact, Grey looked on in horror at the ghoul whose flesh had been ripped open and crude enhancements inserted into muscle and bone. Ochre colored pus oozed from the junction of flesh and metal. Jagged edges of metal like rusted claws were thrusting out between the knuckles of scabrous hands.

Jose jumped to meet the cybered ghoul head on. His knife flashed out in a figure eight pattern, leaving gapping wounds in the gray flesh of the ghoul. The ghoul howled with pain and blood lust and swung its razored hands in an arc, try to rip open Jose's guts. But the small warrior was too quick, and his knife was a blur. Blocking and evading, Jose only allowed the ghoul to score a couple of minor cuts, while his knife pierced organs and opened veins. With a final coup-de-grace, Jose ducked under a wide backhand blow and disemboweled the ghoul, and in a single fluid motion rose up to his full height and brought the razor sharp edge of his knife across the ghoul's throat.

The fight was brutal but short, and then the cyberghoul arced back in his death throes to fall into the red water of the swollen creek. But the victory was short-lived as another of the cybered ghouls landed on top of the piles of loot they had collected just behind Jose and impaled him with its crude cyberclaws.

"Nooo!" Screamed Grey and launched himself forward an imbedded his bayonet deep into the ghoul's left side. The blade stuck in the creature's ribs, so Grey fired the rifle to dislodge the bayonet, intending to stick him again. But the ghoul, though wounded, was too fast and knocked Grey backwards. He dropped his gun so he could grab the side rails and not fall into the ice-cold water. The ghoul raised its bladed arm to strike a deathblow when Red Bear struck from behind. With his machete chopping down hard with all the power the big ork could muster, Red Bear took the ghoul's arm off just above the elbow. The ghoul screamed in burning agony until Red Bear thrust his shoulder into ghoul's back and sent him sprawling into the water, where weighted down by his cyberware, he sank in a gurgle of bubbles.

Red Bear reached down and pulled Grey back onto the hovercraft. Grey was shivering on top of the gear cold and miserable, but happy to be alive and happy to find his rifle lying snagged on a table leg by its sling. He saw Miriam with the autodoc working on Jose, he was glad to see that because it meant the courageous man wasn't dead. It was then he noticed that the howling of the ghouls had faded. The hovercraft had been building up speed, and the ghouls could not keep up as they ran along the bank of the river. Grey retrieved his rifle and reloaded it, just in case any more cyberghouls appeared.

"How's Jose?" He asked.

"He's alive, that's all." Stated Miriam tersely as she worked quickly, but professionally.

They got the canvas back on as they moved, but by now they were all soaked to the skin. Cold and miserable they road their craft back to the junkyard following a wide circle around the QZ. No one spoke, but all were worried about Jose, whose labored breathing could be heard over the patter of rain on the canvas.

The stashed the hovercraft in the barn at the farm, and the loaded Jose into the cab of the truck with Grey and Miriam. The rest followed in Frank's car. The snuck back into the city through the ruins on the south side of town and then back to the junkyard where Miriam continued to treat him. Once Jose had been made as comfortable as was possible, the collapsed in exhaustion.

"We are going to need a real doctor," said Miriam, "or Jose is going to die. I know a doctor, he lost his license, but he still practices. He won't be cheap."

Grey stood silent, thinking furiously, trying to find the answer to the problem. He asked Miriam, "What about Zed, can he use magic to heal him?"

"Zed is in no shape to heal anyone. He is an old man who has used a great deal of power at once. It will be some time before he can recover, more time than we have."

Sugar was plugged into the matrix, and interrupted the conversation by saying, "I'm getting a lot of interest in our stuff. I sent some vid to a couple of high power antique dealers on the East Coast. The one I'm in contact with now is so excited his icon is twitching."

"Tell him," said Grey, "we are offering a few people a chance to look over the stuff tomorrow, if he wants to come here, and then everything is going public the day after."

"I thought you wanted to pace our sales and not draw attention to ourselves." Said Sugar.

"He doesn't know that, he may be anxious to get his hands on the stuff, and we need nuyen fast"

"Right chummer," agreed Sugar. "Okay, he's agreed to come out with his partner. He wants to know who else has been invited."

"Send invites to the same people you sent the vids to and give them their names. Tell him the truth, no one else has responded yet, and it's going to be first come, first served."

"He also wants to know if the stuff is legal," Said Sugar.

"Tell him only a couple of laws were broken in getting the stuff, but it is not stolen and no one is going to come look for it." Answered Grey.

"Are you sure you want me to tell him that?" Asked Sugar.

"Yeah, the extra-legal bit will make him take the bait faster."

Sugar was quiet for a bit, then announced; "He's coming in on the first flight tomorrow morning."

"Looks like we got some work to do people, lets haul that stuff into town." Grey announced to the heartfelt groans came from the exhausted team.

125


	23. Chapter 23

22 April 2070

**Wichita, Kansas**

**1600 Hours**

The sale of the items went better than they expected. Eventually, six different dealers flew in for the sales, and almost all of the items were sold. With their newfound wealth, they paid for the streetdoc to heal Jose. Now, back at the farm, Grey stood on the porch watching another storm scuttle overhead with a voltaic display of lightning and crashing booms of thunder. His mood was as dark as the sky above him as he gnawed over the request Sugar Blue had made of him.

Frank's brother was dying, only a double lung transplant would save him. The only ones with the nuyen to pay for them was the team. If they did that, Grey thought, then everything they had done was pointless. There would be only a few thousand nuyen left, not enough to buy the new equipment for the team. They would be stuck with antique weapons and a homemade hovercraft.

He was honest enough that he admit to himself the he wanted the weapons so that when they went into CDI training, he would not be embarrassed. He didn't want to look like a squatter looking for a handout. Beside, he argued with himself, the more professional we look, the more likely we are to get shadowrunning jobs. How are we going to do that armed like refugees from the Puyallup Barrens?

But now the whole team, except for Frank, wanted to just give the nuyen away. Even Miriam, who would not be able to take her kids back until they made some more money. What were they thinking? Now he had to decide if they were going to give away their future, or let Frank's kid brother die. How fair was that? To ask a man to give up his dreams when he was so close to achieving them or say no and then be the bad guy.

As Grey watched the storm brew, the screen door slammed as Zed came out on the porch.

"I always loved the small of rain," the old shaman said as he took a deep breath. "It is about the cleanest smell in the world."

"Yeah, well it is probably acidic as hell and will burn your skin off, too." A bitter Grey remarked.

"You ain't exactly Mr. Sunshine, now are you boy?"

"I'm not in the mood, Zed."

"You act like someone has just told you couldn't have your desert because you didn't eat your peas."

"My problem is a little more serious than that, dammit." Snapped Grey.

"Yeah, your right it is. It's real important because it is going to tell you and everyone else, just what kind of man you are. You see, these big corporations and governments only talk about how much people mean to them, but they don't really care. All they interested in is money and power and their image. You get to decide whether you are like them, worried about nuyen and fancy uniforms, or if you're someone people can really look up to as a leader. You get to decide if you really care about these people, or if you are willing to burn 'em to get what you want. I'm curious, are you going to be a man when things is tough, or you only going to play at being a man when things is easy?"

Zed then walked away and left Grey, who felt the color come to his cheeks as the old man's words bit him with shame. He stepped forward into the fat drops of rain that had just started to fall, and let them cool his face. He tried to continue his internal debate, but Zed's words had power, not the power of magic and mana, but the power of wisdom hard won in a life of sacrifice and strength. He suddenly found in the rain there was no decision to make. Frank would get the money to help his brother and they would do the best they could, and they would do it as a team.

It was two weeks later when Grey, more than a little nervous, walked into the same hospital they had stolen the ambulance from. He saw the security guard, now without his sergeant stripes, sitting at the security post. He felt a pang of guilt at having cost the man his promotion, but considering that medical supplies had saved one of their lives, he would do it all again. The guard did not recognize him, of course, but he hurried past him nonetheless. The nurse told him the room and he soon found James Matthew's room. When he opened the door, he found James' parents and sister Amelia were there. Frank, they told him, had already left. With his new lungs, James had lost the bluish tint to his skin that had made him seem so fragile. They were all happy to see who they thought was their benefactor, which sparked a renewed since of shame at having hesitated before. They made a fuss over him until they embarrassed him enough to leave.

He rolled out of the parking garage, rolling down Central Avenue, his motorcycle engine growling with restrained power. He headed downtown to stop over at Kelly's for a brew. Not far from the bar he spotted a large crowd of people surrounding some trucks in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. Curious, he pulled into the parking lot to see ragged people shouting and arguing and armed with weapons, mostly clubs and axes, but a few firearms, as they tried to board some dilapidated looking trucks.

He rolled to a stop next to a Lone Star officer who was watching the mass of people.

"Where are they going?" Grey asked the cop.

"These fools heard about some fraggers going into the Quarantine Zone and hauling out a bunch of stuff and selling it for big nuyen. So now they're going there to get rich themselves."

"They'll get themselves ripped apart by ghouls if they go there!" Said Grey horrified. "You got to stop them."

"Outside of our jurisdiction." The officer responded, "We put a call into Ft. Riley to get some troops out there to stop them, but they haven't moved yet."

"Can't you do anything?"

"I've tried. There is only myself and one other officer here because of budget cuts. We can't even afford to arrest them for disturbing the peace because the jail can't feed them. I tried talking them out of going, but these poor fraggers are hungry and desperate. None of them have jobs, and I bet half of them haven't eaten today. "

Grey looked at the mob and said, "But they are dead if they go to the QZ."

"Yeah, I know."

A large open topped truck, loaded with more people than was safe, came to life, its engine coughing and its gears grinding as it moved slowly through the crowd. The driver leaned on the horn to make people move, which they did reluctantly. More of the ragged squatters tried to climb up the sides of the truck but were forced off by the men riding in the back. As it passed by Grey looked at the desperate pinched faces of the people riding in the back. A familiar face appeared and Grey found himself looking straight at the hollow-cheeked face of Gary Hodge. Their eyes met, and Grey could see the resignation in his eyes. Gary knew he wasn't coming back, but there was no hope on the street either. Death was coming, today or tomorrow, but soon.

With another grinding clash of gears the truck moved away and Grey could not longer see his erstwhile friend. Another engine fired up and another truck pulled forward, following the lead truck. Grey watched in helpless desperation at the ragged men went to certain death.

"Poor stupid fraggers," the cop said.

137


	24. Chapter 24

**1 May 2070**

**Quarantine Zone**

**1220 Hours**

"You have nothing to fear, Great One," the dark mage said placatingly. "They cannot know of your presence here."

"And yet," came the unearthly voice of Chorus, "they escaped from my pets. I am not happy that they could enter my territory and still be alive and not serving me. I am not convinced that I lie undiscovered here. I want to know who they are and the exact nature of their business."

"I do not have their names as of yet," said the mage, "but it appears they were merely treasure seekers looking for artifacts left here long ago. I have heard rumors of a sale of such goods. Others have heard these same rumors, and your minions now feast well on the flesh of the ones who now come and you have found use for their skulls, increasing your territory. But as for the first ones, I do not think they will come back here, Great One."

Part of what the Dark Mage said was true, Chorus had been able to incorporate many of the fools who had come into his lands into himself and his territory was growing. Rich nutrients were coming in more abundantly than before. Still, the escape of his enemies disturbed him, a feeling he was unused to and which he did not like.

"I do not share your confidence, mage. One of them had great power and I do not believe his presence here was an accident. I grow more powerful, soon I will not be able to conceal myself any longer and the progress on my spawning is going slower than I like."

"I have found new pawns," said Goddard, "and I will bring you what you desire."

Chorus grumbled, his anger echoing through the caverns, "See that you serve me first, mage. I am not pleased at all with the delays caused by your greed. I have no use for weapons, and yet that is what you were after when your fools got themselves caught."

"Those weapons brought great profits, Great One." Protested the mage. "And those profits were spent on equipment that is needed in our quest."

"Do not bring me any more excuses, and do not cause any further delays." Warned Chorus.

The mage made a bow of willful submission. "Of course, Great One. We will redouble our efforts to spread your seed upon the winds until the whole world is yours."

"Leave now mage, your presence is growing wearisome."

"As you wish, Great One."

Goddard turned a left, seeking his an exit out of the damp, filthy tunnels. His words may have been fawning, but his thoughts were of murder. Since his discovery of the power given by the black fungus, he had been forced to play the sycophant to obtain the fungus. The equipment he had purchased from the sales of the weapons was not meant to help Chorus spawn, but to give him a supply of the fungus and then he would destroy the thing in the tunnels. The nature of Chorus was to destroy. It wanted to bleach the entire world dry by devouring its life essence, but he wanted to rule the world. He knew that Chorus would kill him eventually, as it did everything else, so he must hurry in his research to make a viable reproduction, and keep it under his control. To that effect, he had engaged the services of another gang to hijack the truck cargoes. The Scalpers with their deliberate brain damage, no longer had brains that functioned at a high enough level to be completely trusted. The Rads were a small gang, unremarkable and desperate to survive in the Darwinian environment of the plains. He had to make an effective show of his dark mana powers to convince them that loyalty and discretion were the two qualities that would allow them to both prosper and live. Jake, the new leader had looked upon the corpse of the previous leader and pledged the group's loyalty.

1 May 2070 Western Kansas

**1313 Hours**

"Fuel's low, Captain." The Lone Star pilot said as he banked the blue and white Cessna Caravan IV, its turboprop engine whining as it the pilot applied throttle to take them home.

"Acknowledged," Bent said as he lowered his electronic binoculars to rub his tired eyes. They had been flying for over nine hours, watching the highway below and tracking the target truck.

The resumption of the hijackings had prompted LSHP to load troopers into empty trailers and set them as bait. Bogus manifests had been prepared with tasty bits of cargo the computer profiled as the most likely to be picked by the hijackers. This was the fifth such attempt at drawing out the hijackers, and the fifth such failure. Frustration made Bent strike the polyglass of the side window.

"Easy Captain," drawled the pilot, "we'll get 'em."

Forty minutes later the Lone Star plane was parked on the tarmac at Helltown. A bored ramp technician was filling the wing tanks with alcohol. Capt. Bentley walked toward the main concourse of the small airfield. He was in a humorless mode, a mode that did not improve when he saw Marshall Starn leaning against the prefab wall of the concourse.

"No luck, huh?" The Iron Marshal grunted.

"Not yet," agreed the captain.


	25. Chapter 25

2 May 2070

**Ft. Riley**

**0900 Hours**

When Grey and his team arrived at Ft. Riley, they saw several hundred ragged squatters standing in a line for induction into the Civilian Defense Initiative. In truth, the inductees were expecting very little, most just hoping for a hot meal at least. Frank cut the power to the engines and coasted to a stop in the shade of a large building. They climbed out to stretch their legs, but staying close to the hovercraft. They got curious stares from the others who came only with their hands out. A face looked at them from out of the window of the quonset hut where the line began. That face disappeared and another face took his place. A few minutes later a sergeant and a Lieutenant came out of the building and walked up to them. They all straightened up a little bit as the Special Forces soldiers approached.

The lieutenant's name was Meyers, as they could see from the name strip above the left pocket and the sergeant's name was Micks. Lt. Meyer's nodded in greeting and spoke, "I take it you people are here for induction into the Civilian Defense Initiative. What is that thing you came in?"

"It's our hovercraft, Lieutenant." Said Grey. "It works really well on the prairie, even in the wind. It hauls a lot of stuff too. We thought it might come in useful."

"I see you have uniforms and weapons with you." Said the Lieutenant.

"Yes Sir, they aren't new, but they all work and we are pretty good with them."

"Well Son," Lt. Meyers said, "at least you came with something, that's more than most of these poor bastards."

The Special Forces training cadre, who was never enthusiastic about the CDI concept, were exasperated at the lack of motivation among the recruits. After a particularly vexing day, Lieutenant Meyers and Master Sergeant Englewood, a burly ork, sat in Major Frederick Armstrong's office. The major was a troll that towered over even the rock-like Englewood. The Major's horns curled in perfectly matched concentric rings like a ram's, and he was enormously vain about them. Despite his penchant for vanity, Major Armstrong was an extremely competent officer and well respected by the men that served under him.

"Okay," the Major said, "tell me how bad it really is."

"It's pretty bad, Sir." The Ork sergeant spoke up. "Not much motivation, discipline is atrocious, and we've lost half of the recruits we accepted in the three hours of training. I don't see how we are going to complete a two month course if the attrition rate stays up."

Meyer's nodded his agreement with his underling and then added, "We are also short on supplies of every kind. Most of what the Army is sending is worn out junk. We have complained, but the Army says these CDI troopers were supposed to bring their own gear. We are sorting through the supplies, finding and repairing what we can, but the stuff we are handing out is little better than the rags most of these people were wearing when they got here. We have no weapons yet, which is probably a good thing since they would most likely end up in a pawnshop."

"Well, look on the bright side of things, Lieutenant," said the major with dark humor, "the attrition rate will help with the supply problem."

"Yes Sir, I guess it will."

The major rubbed his graying temples and said, "Gentlemen, we don't really have an option for failure here. Politics are involved, the Kansas Senator who got this idea going is the chairman of the budget committee for the armed services. If we don't get his idea off the ground, the esteemed Senator from Kansas my just well clip the Army's finances when the next budget meetings come around . This would not make our superiors very happy, and in the grand tradition of the Army, they would start looking for some scapegoats. I'm pretty sure that would be us. So, we _are_ going to have to make this work. Am I making myself clear?"

"I think we may have some bright spots, Major." Said Meyers.

"I would love some good news, Lieutenant."

"Its odd, but we had one group show up in a hovercraft who already have some rudimentary training."

Training they got from a sim, Sir." Interjected Master Sergeant Englewood, who decided to play Devil's Advocate. "Their guns are antiques left over from a war fought a hundred years ago."

"More like a hundred and twenty years, but still serviceable, and I have a feeling they know how to use them. They also have all their basic equipment and uniforms, bought used from a surplus dealer I'm sure, but still better than the stuff we are handing out. Plus they have that hovercraft."

"Have you seen it, Sir? It looks like it was made in a junkyard." Englewood said.

"It is definitely homemade, but as far as I'm concerned," replied the Lieutenant, "that just shows personal initiative. They have outfitted themselves, trained themselves, and built a serviceable hovercraft from the ground up. They are completing the physical training with ease so far, and they have at least one veteran, one trained and experienced medic, and a shaman with them."

"I wonder just how old that shaman is? Asked Englewood rhetorically, "His real age can't be anywhere near what is listed on his SIN card. In fact, if we look close enough, I bet we find the SIN numbers for the whole group are dodgy."

"Then I would suggest, Sir," Meyers rebutted, "that we don't look too closely at them. You want a bright spot in this mess, there it is. Obviously, they came here with an agenda of their own, but we are not in a position to look this particular gift horse in the mouth."

"Okay, it doesn't look like we have much of choice." The Major observed, "We need them to keep the politicians happy. Keep an eye on them, of course, and make sure you give them lots of attention. Maybe you can use them to motivate the others. You two build up the men, and I will work on getting us better equipment from the regular Army, and just maybe we'll get out of this with our careers intact."

136


	26. Chapter 26

**27 June 2070**

**Ft. Riley, Kansas**

**2230 Hours**

"Grey, someone's coming!" Jose whispered from where he stood guard.

"I got to go, Cousin Jerry." Grey said into the viewscreen of the Eagle's comunit.

"Alright, we'll see you in a six weeks. We'll have everything you want waiting for you."

"See you then," said Grey and then he turned off the viewscreen and brought a diagnostic screen up. They had snuck out of the barracks to make contact with Grey's family in the Confederated States. They could have easily made the call from a portable comunit Sugar had made with the help of the technical sergeant during the Electronic Warfare classes, but there were too many other ears in the barracks.

"Good evening, Sergeant." Grey heard Jose say, a little too loudly, trying to warn him."

"What are you doing out here?" Asked the Sergeant. "It's after hours."

"We are working on the hovercraft, it doesn't fly just right."  
"We? Who else is out here?"

"Just me, Sergeant." Said Grey through the open hatchway.

"What are you doing, recruit?" Asked Sergeant Randall.

"I was running a diagnostic on the motors. According to the computer, output has been steadily dropping. It's down seven percent. We probably got a coil going bad in the number three motor."

"You are not suppose to be out of the barracks after 2100 hours, recruit."

"The Lieutenant said he wanted everything working properly for the field exercises this weekend. We'll probably have to replace that coil."

"I don't care what the Lieutenant said, recruit." A stern Sergeant Randall said. "No one leaves the barracks after 2100hrs. Too many people have gotten into too much trouble. You get back to the barracks right now."

"Yes, Sergeant." Said Grey.

Grey and Jose went back to the decaying wooden structures the Army had dedicated as barracks for the CDC program. The rest of the team, except the women who were housed in another dorm, was there. The other inhabitant of the barracks looked up as they entered. Grey scratched the side of his nose, the signal all was well and things were proceeding according to plan.

"You chummers got caught didn't you," Said Dunbar grinning. He was a rough looking farmhand whose face was distended by a permanent wad of chewing tobacco.

"Yeah, we never made it close to the women's barracks," said Grey. "Sergeant Randall caught us."

"Hah, told ya so, chummer."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you."

Dunbar dealt out another hand of cards. Red Bear and Zed sat in on the game while Frank lay on his bed reading an army technical manual on mechanics. Dunbar was one of those people who thought they were smarter than they were. Zed and Red Bear continually beat him at cards, occasionally letting him win small pots to keep him playing.

"You chummers are really gung ho about this drek, ain't ya?" Observed Dunbar.

"What do you mean?" Asked Grey.

"You and your crew are always the first to volunteer for everything. You always go first, always asking questions and asking them to show you stuff. You sure got to be their favorites, sucking up the way you do. What's your angle, anyway?"

"There isn't any angle, Dunbar. We aren't sucking up, we are trying to survive. We know what's out there, you don't, but you're going to find out."

Dunbar spit tobacco into a cup and sneered, "Oh, you fraggers already been out there, huh? You know everything now and your all rough and tough, is that it?."

"At least I know enough not to try and fill and inside straight." Responded Grey. "That's more than you know apparently."

"Frag off, drekhead."

They had settled into a routine soon enough after training began. They were all impressed with the knowledge and professionalism of the Special Forces troopers. What would have stopped regular army training in its tracks became opportunities for them to build teamwork among the CDC recruits. All of the training and lecture areas were made from natural materials found on the military reservation. The recruits had to build the hut-like structures, after getting instruction in the appropriate wilderness survival techniques of shelter building and rope making, in very short amounts of time. This forced them to work together and to learn quickly. They did physical training in the mornings and evenings and did their specialized training during the day. The pace was hectic; everyone learned to carry battle rations in their cargo pockets because often they would not stop to eat. They slept where they stopped, usually only for a few hours or maybe just even a few minutes. They were amazed, and dismayed, that their Special Forces trainers seemed to require no sleep whatsoever.

Grey was enjoying himself. Dunbar had been right, he was gung ho about this stuff. He especially liked the tactical training. The SF troopers had obtained weapons for training, finally, and they were all proficient now in using the guns on the range, even Miriam who detested the things. Everyone was exhausted, but motivated at the same time. They practiced squad level tactics for weeks, day and night in the bush and in the streets of the simulated town built for that reason on the base.

They even participated in training drills the regular army was conducting, acting as insurgents to the army's counterforce. At first they were hopelessly outmatched, much to the delight and expressed derision of the regular army types. But as they progressed in their training, they became tough opponents to beat and earned the respect of their mock enemies.

They were able to scrounge and repair some heavy weapons for their hovercraft, which everyone now called the Electric Buffalo. After their encounter in the Quarantine Zone, Red Bear had painted a stylized buffalo and lightning bolt on the side the hovercraft to commemorate their first battle. Naturally, that became the team's name as well.

Their trainers utilized every available resource available, and stole or cajoled whatever they lacked. Red Bear and Zed were tapped to teach tracking and survival, and another recruit, an out of work civil engineer, gave lessons in determining if bridges and other structures could be used and to calculate how much weight they could bear while Sergeant Randall, demolition expert, told them how to blow them up.

Frank helped get some old army trucks running, which were then stripped down and armed with heavy weapons to make effective long-range patrol vehicles. Jose turned out to be gifted with the explosives and laughed like a child every time he got to blow something up. Grey was the best shot of all, and he helped with marksmanship and afternoon hand-to-hand combat training drills.

Miriam worked with Sergeant Burns, it seemed being in the Special Forces automatically carried with it a promotion to sergeant, who was the team's medic. Although experienced, even she learned some new things about treating trauma patients in the field.

Sugar Blue worked with Sergeant Zimmerman, who was the communication and electronics expert. There were a few other deckers in the group, and Zimmerman taught them by having them build their own decks from scavenged parts. By building from the ground up, they learned more about electronics than if they had been setting in a corporate decker's classroom for a year. Even though Zimmerman's training wasn't really physically demanding, much to the disgust of the rest of trainees, it was still intense. From piles of scavenged parts, the students built usable communication, tracking, navigation, and Matrix hopping devices for the teams that were forming.

Zimmerman pounded their icons in the sub-matrix training simulators. Besides simulated ice, they had to spar each other, playing a digital form of king of the hill and whatever sadistic exercise he could think of at the time. All of his hand picked students could complain of pounding headaches at the end of their very long days, but their understanding of computer systems and their skills in Matrix combat and tactics increased to a level they had only dreamed about.

Grey and his group formed a team of their own, which was fortunate because they had not thought about what to do if someone else had been assigned to them. However, their trainers decided they had all of the necessary skills among them with just the seven of them. It was decided by Major Armstrong that there wasn't going to be a set number of people on each team, but rather each team had to show it had the necessary skills, so most teams were bigger than Electric Buffalo.

Everyone complained of course, which is the soldier's sacred right. Only Zed remained cheerful, treating the outing like a camping trip. Even though he kept up with the younger people, and refused to show any weakness in front of them, they would catch the old man walking slow and painful when no one was looking, but mostly he kept up his cheerful front. Sergeant Asher was the magic slinger on the Special Forces team, but he was a mage, and his magic discipline was different than Zed's shamanic magic. Still, they managed to keep each other amused during their magic combats. There were two other people who showed aptitude for magic, and the Special Forces wizard trained them in simple spells and magical concepts.

Every week was a field exercise. At first they simply camped somewhere on the prairie, in force and well secured against the more dangerous species of fauna. As they progressed in their training, and attrition took its toll on the trainees, the groups got smaller but tougher. By the second month each team was completing training missions alone on the prairie.

As they neared the end of the training cycle, which had been lengthened to three months, much to dismay of the trainees but considered necessary by Major Armstrong, each team, and then each individual had to complete a forty-kilometer march across the prairie alone. Grey's team had the fastest time. One CDC recruit did not make it back, but it was unknown if he had been killed or if he had deserted, no trace of him was ever found.

When Grey's turn came to do the march solo, he was determined to finish with the fastest time and match his team's record, and so he slogged through the dew-wet grass that whipped around his legs, carrying his pack on his aching shoulders. He only stopped for ten minutes at a time, so his legs wouldn't stiffen up on him. Blisters formed, popped, and made him miserable, but still he put one foot in front of the other just as fast as he could. His gun felt as if it weighed a hundred kilos, but he was glad to have it. The moon was only half full above him, but with his night vision equipment it seemed as bright as daylight to him.

It was that night, alone on the prairie, that he realized that he had proven everything to himself that he needed to prove. With that realization the burden of fear and failure and loss was lifted from his shoulders and he stopped to wonder at this feeling of freedom. He took off his helmet and let the cool night air dry the sweat from his hair. He looked up at the half-moon, since it was his only companion and stood still in the night.

Faintly at first, but with a growing conviction, a lone wolf's howl sounded out in a mournful chorus to the moon. Laughing, Grey threw back his head and let out a howl to the moon as well. Much to his amazement, the wolf answered his call with his own barking yelp. For half and hour the man and the wolf enjoyed a dialogue, primordial, but filled with fierce joy of life under the moon when the wind whispers among the tall grasses and shivers the leaves of the cottonwood trees. When the wolf would not answer him anymore, Grey picked up his helmet and finished his march. He did not break the record, but then he didn't care anymore either.

Perhaps it was the change in him, but after that all night march, Grey noticed a change in the other recruits as well. They were tougher, leaner, more focused than they had ever been. The deliberate danger of the Long Walks, as they came to be called, developed a spirit in the troopers and made them all the more willing to put every effort into their training. Because of their months of prior preparation, Grey's team had fared the best of all the recruits. Even Sugar had risen to the occasion, and was Zimmerman's best student. Indeed, each had fared well and the instructors gave them silent compliments by allowing them to fill in for them when they were called away elsewhere.

Grey was a little embarrassed to think how naïve they had been when they came. These Special Forces soldiers had taken the crudely trained bunch and made them into an effective combat group. Life had been tough for the months they were there, but Grey felt like it had been worth it. The training they had received was invaluable for shadowrunners. He gave himself a pat on the back for the plan that he had come up with to secure what they needed. Perhaps this wasn't Seattle, but here on the UCAS frontier, the Electric Buffalo team had become hard and lean.

As the end of September came, the skills training wound down and gave way to rehearsals. Senator Breakstone, the author of the program, wanted to see the first graduating class in action, so a show and tell program had been devised by the SF sergeants to show off their trainee scouts. Major Armstrong and the Senator, after the demonstration, would then award each of the trainees with a certificate and a gray beret with a buffalo pin on it to denote their status as the first official scouts the Army had used since the 1800s. The buffalo image pleased Zed immensely.

When the final weekend came, dignitaries from the Governor's office, Army Brass, and Senator Beckstone and his party were there to watch the hundred or so remaining CDC recruits go through several simulated scenarios involving both open and urban combat. They would also attend lectures given by the staff and the trainees at the training huts they had built about the flora and fauna of the plains, geography lessons, and survival techniques.

The weather, which had been ugly for the last week, cooperated with a crystal clear day and for the most part, the demonstrations went off without any serious problems and the delighted senator expressed his gratitude at the program's development. Senator Breakstone's apparent satisfaction eased Major Armstrong's anxiety, at least enough that he could actually enjoy the demonstration.

"Your people did a good job, Major." Complimented the Senator. "I know the regular army isn't fond of projects like this, so I assume you had some trouble in getting what you needed."

"Not at all, Senator," Armstrong lied, "everyone was behind us one hundred percent, Sir."

You are lying through your teeth, there Freddy, Armstrong thought to himself. The Army gave you drek and you and your boys spun it into gold. You know, these recruits do look pretty good; your guys did a good job of training these fraggers. We had to patch together the vehicles and the guns by cannibalizing every thing we could steal when the regular army types weren't looking, but we pulled it off. We built all the training facilities and lecture areas. Hell we even built these damn bleachers. And now it looks like your career isn't going to die an early death after all, and these scout troopers might actually be useful.

After the demonstrations, the trainees gathered in formation and the dignitaries shook hands with each recruit, with Senator Breakstone stopping to award them a certificate of completion for the program and to ask their names and home towns. Despite their previous nights grumbling about what a waste of time this demonstration was, each one of them grinned like fools when they received their certificates and berets from the senator and the major.

Later that night, the recruits, now officially CDC Scouts, and the training cadre sat around a roaring bonfire drinking beer and shouting out loud. Each of the Sergeants shook hands with their trainees and gave them words of advice and encouragement. Major Armstrong then read them their general orders.

"What the Government has decided to do is to put monitoring devices along the borders. Your jobs, besides patrolling the border areas, will be to check on the equipment and perform routine maintenance. Eventually, depending on how successful you are out there, more units will be deployed. We have all learned a lot over the last several months, trainees and cadre alike, and we hope to have some of you back on a more full time basis to help train the next batch, once you have some experience under your belt.

You will be rotated on your missions, and you coordinate through local National Guard Armories, where you can check out your gear for each mission and store your own things, if you wish. You will be given more detailed instructions once you go active. Let me all say, I am proud of all of you. What you went through was not easy, and it wasn't _supposed_ to be. You are all tough and capable soldiers and I would be glad to serve beside you at anytime."

The newly minted CDC scouts cheered their leader with great enthusiasm and the party lasted until the sun began to lighten the sky in the East.

153


	27. Chapter 27

1 September 2070

**Sioux Nation/UCAS Border**

**1700 Hours**

The air was thick with tension as the team and the Orks of the Bear Clan stood absolutely still as Red Bear, his hand on his knife, stood face to face with Antero. The big Ork's face, normally impassive face was twisted with anger and rage. The team had gathered for their second meeting with the Orks to trade CAS items for NAN when Red Bear saw the one he had sworn to kill.

"Why are you here, Antero? Do you seek death?" Snarled Red Bear.

"I do not seek death, but neither am I afraid of it, Red Bear. You promised to come back to the tribe and you did not. We thought you dead in the mountains, but then you contact us so we know you are alive. I came to seek peace between us, or to finish this business once and for all. But now I see you and you are wearing the uniform of the Anglos. I wonder, do you still serve our people or not."

"You stupid dog, I wear this uniform because it allows me to help our people. Money will flow into our village, and from whom does this money come? Not the one everyone calls Antero the Wise, but from Red Bear, the greatest warrior in the Bear Clan. You have already done enough to for me to kill you a dozen times, but that insult will guarantee that I will not kill you quickly."

"I do not insult you Red Bear, nor do I deny that you are the greatest of the Bear Clan's warriors. I merely ask why you wear the uniform of the ones who hate us."

"If for no other reason," retorted Red Bear, "I would wear this uniform because these Anglos have more honor than one who would call himself my clan brother."

Grey could see the rest of the Orks stiffen at the insult Red Bear had offered Antero. He could see in their faces they expected blood for such an insult.

Antero face grimaced and he spoke, "I have been patient with your insults Red Bear, because I hoped you would see reason and drop this blood feud. But your pride has gotten the better of you. You wish my blood? Then you can take it now. But know that your pride has hurt our people. Where once we were one, now discord has settled among us. If by dying I can heal that wound then I will. I am a warrior of the Bear Clan; I serve my people by my life and by my death. Can you say the same thing, Red Bear?"

"You betray and then you play the martyr. Your words are slippery, Antero. There would have been no feud between us if not for you. I did not betray, you did."

"Ina did not love you. She loved me. I am sorry that we hurt you, we did not mean to, but you and she were never meant to be together."

"Ina's betrayal was not as hard as yours, Antero. I do not fight you so I may claim her as my own. I fight you because of what you did, you who I called my brother. Now, let us be done with this business."

"So be it." Agreed Antero.

The two orks dropped all of their gear, except their knives. No one cheered or said anything as the two Indian warriors circled each other. The outcome was in no doubt, Grey saw quickly, Red Bear with the hard training with both Jose and the Special Forces soldiers made him fast, hard, and mean. Indeed, the fight lasted only a few seconds, Antero lunged in at an opening Red Bear had left as bait, and over extended himself. Using the pommel of his knife, Red Bear smashed his weapon into the nerve cluster at the base of Antero's thumb, forcing Antero to drop his knife with a grunt of pain. Red Bear, in a single motion, reversed his attack to bring the knife handle straight down on the bridge of the smaller ork's nose, causing it to break and spurt blood. The dazed Antero could nothing as Red Bear wrapped up his right arm in an arm lock and then kicked Antero's feet out from underneath him. Antero's own body weight caused the arm to snap just above the elbow. Antero screamed at the pain ripping out of his shattered limb. Red Bear twisted the shattered limb hard and Antero screamed again. Then Red Bear let the broken limb fall.

"Hear me brothers of my clan," announced Red Bear standing over his now vanquished foe, "I hereby renounce my blood feud with Antero. I will not seek his life for what he has done. Whatever was owed to me has been paid this day. If Antero seeks to continue the feud I will give him another chance at me, but I will not seek him out. Let there be peace among all of the Bear Clan from now on."

One of the Bear Clan orks, Grey did not know which one, stepped forward and raised his hands to the sky to gain the other Orks' attention while some others stepped forward to help their fallen friend. The ork with upraised arms spoke to the assembled warriors.

"Red Bear has renounced his blood feud, but do you Antero wish to continue the feud?"

Antero, his face ashen and drawn shook his head no.

"Then let there be peace among us. We are the Bear Clan and we will be one."

At that announcement the other members of the clan cheered and Red Bear stooped over and whispered in Antero's ear. The smaller ork looked up grimacing at the big warrior standing over him for a moment, and after a short pause, nodded his head in agreement.

"So how come you didn't kill him?" Asked Grey of his friend a little while later.

"Because he was right. My blood feud was hurting the clan by dividing it."

"But I thought killing him was a matter of personal honor?" Asked Grey.

"I think my honor will be just fine." Answered Red Bear.

"Then why did you fight him at all?"

"Because he deserved it. Do you know what I told him after the fight?"

"I couldn't hear you."

"I told him what he did hurt a lot more than a broken arm. It is over now, let us now bargain and make some nuyen. I want to buy a new gun when we get back to Helltown."

157


	28. Chapter 28

22 December 2070 Near the Sioux/UCAS border

**0945 Hours**

Summer and autumn faded into winter and the team made smuggling runs every two weeks. The nuyen that flowed in had made them flush, and they enjoyed their newfound wealth. The UCAS military had CDI troopers install a line of sensors along the border. They were just finishing up as the wind blew fat heavy snowflakes around.

"Targets closing in." Sugar's voice came over their helmet radios. "Six bogeys vectoring in from the northwest and moving fast. Four are moving in a skirmish line, and two seem to be trying to flank us by circling left and right."

"Can you identify?" Asked Grey.

"Negative, this heavy snow is interfering with the systems ID program. But it is telling me it organic, not metallic. Whatever they are, they alive."

"Security elements pull in close to the hovercraft. Jose, man the heavy machine gun. Frank, get the hovercraft ready."

Grey disconnected his datapad from the sensor array he had been doing diagnostics on. Grey and Red Bear trotted back to the hovercraft, following their own tracks in the ten-centimeter deep snow.

"Update." Grey ordered.

"I've lost them," reported Sugar, "they ran down into a draw and the ground effect radar can't see them. I caught them as they crested a small ridge before."

Grey could see the skirt on the craft inflate as Frank engaged the electric motors. The action was silent, but snow blew out from underneath in white crystalline cloud. Jose was pulling back the canvas covering of their Chinese Type 92 heavy machine gun. The big gun was a copy of the Ultimax HMG-3 used by UCAS forces. The weapon had been one of the first purchases they had made after their first successful smuggling run into the Sioux Nation. Most of the crew were still carrying their M-1 Garands, which served them quite well for long shots on the open prairie.

Zed ran lightly through the snow, despite the heavy buffalo robe coat he wore. His instincts were screaming at him, but he did not know what was wrong. It wasn't until one of the flankers crested a small rise to their left that Zed remembered that the only creature on the prairie that used hunting tactics like this were barghests.

Barghests were paranormal animals, bigger than a mastiff hound, which it resembled, with sleek white winter fur and spines jutting from its backbone. When the saw the massive creature, Zed turned up the audio neutralization circuits and yelled a warning to his teammates.

"Turn up your audio filters on your helmets!"

It was too late, the beast let loose a screaming howl that carried in it not only a primordial hatred for its prey, but also a fearsome magic that caused anything within hearing to freeze in place. Barghests packs would send out flankers, the fastest of the pack, who would encircle their prey and then paralyze them with their demonic howls and then the rest of the pack would arrive to take down their victims.

"Damn," spit Zed as he brought his rifle to his shoulder, but the big canine had moved behind the hovercraft. Jose, frozen in place could only watch with the utmost horror as the beast streaked toward Grey and Red Bear.

They were not completely paralyzed, but the howling was affecting their reactions. With clumsy fingers they tried to bring their weapons to bear, but even what had become second nature to them was incredibly difficult. They both realized that they would not be able to fire in time. The lead barghest, his eyes an unholy red and his breath throwing out clouds of steam, raced forward for an easy kill. The rest of the pack appeared just then and moved with a dread determination.

The big white monster rushed forward thinking only of its own kill, and not seeing the thin piece of wire sticking up from the snow. As it passed by, the anti-personnel mine popped up out of the snow and exploded. The dog-brain computer inside the mine controlled its flight, turning it so the force of the explosion was directed at its target. Steel ball bearings ripped into the side of the barghest, knocking it sideways, but not killing it outright. Its howling became a yelp of pain.

The team's training at Ft. Riley had instilled in them the necessity for layered defenses whenever they stopped, even if it was for a short time. Today that training and discipline saved them. Theybegan to recover from the magical assault, but they were groggy and uncoordinated.

"Turn up, your audio filters," Zed yelled again into his mic and their clumsy fingers reached for the controls.

Zed, cursed himself for not recognizing the hunting pattern of the barghests, fired into the other flanker that appeared out of the snow not twenty meters away. His shot hit the beast in the shoulder and it crashed into the snow, spraying dark blood over the white of the snow. He put two quick shots into the beast as it struggled to rise. The other four were moving in, focusing on him as the most dangerous of their prey since he obviously wasn't affected by the howling of their pack brothers. Zed fired at a second barghest, but missed twice. They were coming in too fast for him to use magic. Once again only a defensive mine that blew off the front leg of the magical beast saved him.

Ragged geysers of snow started popping up as Jose finally got his heavy machine gun into action. Still affected by the magic, he slurred his weapon around drunkenly, hitting just close enough to make the barghests veer away from Zed, who did the perfectly logical thing of running like hell for the hovercraft. The big .50 caliber bullets whizzed overhead and Zed hoped Jose wouldn't kill him by mistake. By the time he made the hovercraft, he could dully hear the popping of the smaller caliber weapons joining the big machine gun. Although the team did not hit anymore of the barghests. They simply disappeared into the blowing snow and were gone.

Breathing hard and still shaking the team gathered together and looked at each other with eyes wide with fear. Zed pulled his hip flask out of his pocket and gave it to each of them. The harsh burn of the whiskey made them sputter and choke, but it did clear their heads from the residue barghests' magic.

"What the frag were those things?" Demanded Jose in a rasping voice.

"Barghests," answered Zed as he slapped Miriam's back as she coughed and sputtered from his treatment.

"They are paranormal animals, they usually hunt alone, except in the winter when prey is scarcer. This was their standard tactic, send out the fastest runners on the flanks and let loose with that howl of theirs freezing their prey until the rest of the pack comes in to tear them to pieces. I am sorry, I should have known what was going on and warned you sooner."

"Not…not, your fault." Grey breathed heavily. "We are alive. We'll know better next time. I will send a report into headquarters, so the other teams won't get caught by surprise."

Red Bear raised his rifle and fired at one of the barghests who still alive and trying to escape. Then he said, "There are good bounties on these animals, and we have killed two. That is good."

Frank, who had shut the electric motors down and had joined them in the cargo area, shook himself like a wet dog, trying to gain control of his nervous system.

"I never want to hear that sound again," he said shuddering.

Their chorus echoed their agreement and Grey asked Zed, "Do you think they will be back?"

"Not likely, but they won't forget us either. They will try to rebuild the pack and then they may be back. These critters hold a grudge, so you can expect we'll meet them again, someday."

"Well, we'll be ready next time, chummers." Said Grey.

Red Bear slung his rifle over his shoulder and said, "I'm going to get the tails of those beasts, so we can collect the bounty."

"I'll go with you." Zed spoke up, "Just in case they come back."

At that moment, another strange rhythmic sound came thumping at them from the sky overhead. A squat Sioux Nation Security Force stealth helicopter flew directly over their position, no more than fifteen meters off the ground.

Everyone was surprised, and froze for a moment before scrambling to get the hovercraft underway. Grey was shouting orders, totally unnecessary since they all wore headsets, but in the excitement of the moment no one noticed.

"Get a lock on that chopper," Grey ordered Sugar.

"I'm trying, it's a stealth bird and the storm isn't helping, I'm getting a lot of false hits."

"Jose," continued Grey not acknowledging Sugar's response, "man the heavy machine gun, but don't fire until I say so."

Grey then engaged the hovercraft's satellite uplink and tried to establish contact with their headquarters at Ft. Riley.

"I think I got something, it's a faint echo. It could be ground clutter, but I don't think so." Announced Sugar from her nav-station.

"I got it on my screen," said Frank from the pilot's chair. "I will try and vector in on it."

The hovercraft leapt forward as Frank made the electric motors whine with power and they began their pursuit.

"Understood." Grey said in acknowledgement. He continued to try to access the control center located at Ft. Riley. Finally, a snowy picture emerged as contact was established on the vid screen. A disgruntled corporal looked out at them and demanded a report.

"Alpha Dog, this Electric Buffalo. We are reporting a border breach at the coordinates I am sending. It appeared to be a stealth helicopter, headed on an easterly course flying very low. Over."

"Confirm that report Electric Buffalo. Did you say that you had a helicopter in your sector?" The controller demanded.

"Affirmative, approximately one minute ago, a stealth helicopter with sound-dampened rotor blades, flew over our position in the snow storm. We estimate that it is flying at a height of fifteen to twenty meters. We are in pursuit. Can you please advise?"

"Stand by Electric Buffalo." The corporal said and then disappeared from the screen.

"Sugar, did our onboard cameras record anything when that chopper flew over?" Grey asked.

"I'm piping the vid-data back to you, I'm a too busy trying to track this thing.

From his command station in the back of the hovercraft, Grey ran the vid-data backwards until he saw a rough, but recognizable image emerge in video of the helicopter. He quickly marked that segment of the recording and prepared it for upload. Five minutes later a Lieutenant he didn't know came on the vid screen.

"This is Lt. Greenly, give me a report."

"Sir," said Grey, "I'm feeding you some data our cameras caught a few minutes ago. I will then feed you our navigation data, and our current radar images. The small the echo on the top of the screen is what we believe to be the intruder."

In the Control Center at Ft. Riley, the infantry lieutenant reviewed the images sent by the scout team. He played through the video of the helicopter twice before he reached over and keyed the communication terminal on a nearby desk. A major's face appeared on the screen and asked what he wanted.

"Major Yang, Sir," explained Lt. Greenly, "we have a border security breach in sector 47A, a foreign aircraft has entered our airspace. One of the CDI scout teams is in pursuit."

"Have you confirmed this Lieutenant?" Asked the Major.

"Affirmative Sir, the scout team managed to get video of what appears to be a Sioux stealth helicopter. Apparently it flew directly over their position."

"And you say they are in pursuit? How are they pursuing them Lieutenant?"

"They are pursuing in a hovercraft Sir, you may have seen it last summer during their training. They are feeding us the data from their navcomp and their radar images. The images aren't very clear, they are having heavy snows out west and apparently it's interfering with the data signal."

"And that is perfect weather for an infiltrating flight. Okay, Lieutenant, let me pass this up the chain of command, and then I'm coming down there to see for myself."

A metallic groaning noise, made Jose look behind him and then he keyed up his mic.

"Grey, man I don't think the radar mast is going to make it. It is starting to bend."

"Dammit, I was afraid of that. The mast isn't meant to stand this kind of wind shear." Said Grey. They had left the mast extended to get the maximum range out of their radar. Now the whole thing threatened to come apart. "Red Bear, Zed, can you two reinforce the mast?"

"We'll try, kid." Said Zed.

In the Sioux helicopter, called a Taheton or Crow, the Co-pilot reported to her commander. "We are still getting sweeped by radar pings, whatever that was we flew over is chasing us."

"It must have been one of those new scout teams the UCAS put out here. Our bad luck to fly right over them. I don't know how they are keeping up with us, this crate was built for stealth, not speed, but surely we are faster than any ground craft."

The co-pilot pointed to the three dimensional holomap and said, "From the radar's incoming vector, I would say they a running along this ridge line, using its height to help them gain a better look with their radar."

"Smart fraggers for a bunch of civilians."

"Are we going to engage them, Commander?" Asked the female co-pilot.

"No, we don't know what kind of anti-aircraft capability they have, but surely they don't have surface to air missiles or they would have launched them by now."

"They may have them Sir, but they won't fire them unless they get a lock on us, and this bird has some serious ECM capability."

"You may be right, but lets not take a chance. We are only fifty kilometers from the CAS border, lets hop the fence and see if we can shake these fraggers."

Back at the Control Center at Ft. Riley, Grey's voice rode the static out of the speaker of the comunit mounted on the wall. "The target has turned due south on a azimuth of one hundred and eighty degrees."

"He's running for the border." Said Lt. Greenly.

"Do we have any air assets in the area?" Asked General Skils, the base's commander asked Lt. Greenly..

"We have two F-32 Sparrow Hawks heading that way, but they are still ten minutes out. The bogey will be over the border before we can intercept them."

"What about the ConFeds, do they have anything near the area?"

"Not that I am aware of, Colonel. But I believe Major Yang is in contact with their military right now. Perhaps he will be able give some updated information."

Major Yang who had overheard the conversation between the two officers, despite holding a comunit to his ear, shook his head to show the CAS had no aircraft available.

"Do these scouts have any anti-aircraft capability, Lieutenant?"

"Maybe some machine guns, but no dedicated ordinance, Sir." Lt. Greenly answered. "From what I understand, the Army didn't want that kind of ordinance being handed out to civilians."

"We may have to reconsider that. If we could bring down this chopper, we could prove to those morons in Congress we need more troops and equipment out here."

"This is Electric Buffalo calling Alpha Dog," Grey's voice came out of the wall speaker again. "Target has crossed the border into CAS territory. Please advise."

General Skils spoke into the comunit next to him, "Stand down Electric Buffalo, you are not to cross the border. Repeat; do not cross over into CAS territory. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative Alpha Dog, we are standing down and waiting for orders. Be advised Alpha, we have damage to our radar mast and will have to repair as soon as possible."

"Understood, just monitor the area from your present location and we will update your orders shortly."

"Affirmative Alpha, we are staying put and awaiting your orders."

"Major," said the General, "have the flyboys sweep the border, I don't think they will find much, but let's be thorough. Also, see if those sensors we got out there detected anything at all. Again, probably not, those things were old when I was a shavetail Second Lieutenant, but let's check. Then get all of the intel we have managed to gather and get it over to the boys and girls in intelligence and make them earn their pay. We'll make sure we have something before we send this on to the big brass. I don't want us looking foolish if these civilians were chasing snowflakes out there."

Jose rubbed his hands together trying to get the feeling back into them and saying, "I'm glad we didn't catch that chopper, my hands are so cold I don't think I could have pulled the trigger on that gun."

"Come over here, Jose." Said Miriam punching in data to the Autodoc, "I bet you have some frostbite and we had better treat it before you lose some fingers."

"Any word from Riley?" Asked Frank.

"Nothing so far." Replied Grey. "We just wait here until they get back to us. I hope they don't forget about us and leave us sitting."

"Yeah," agreed Jose, "those fraggers don't care about us at all."

"That is just how we want it, Jose. They don't pay much attention to us, and we get to sneak over the border ourselves and make some nuyen. It seems my plan is working pretty well. We may not be millionaires, but we are making pretty good money now."

"When is our next run, Grey?" Asked Frank.

"In a couple of days, my cousins tell me that every Christmas, Avatar Golf has a big sale on their clubs. That is what we are taking in next."

"Golf clubs?" Asked Miriam.

"Golf is very popular among executives in the NANs," explained Red Bear.

"And Avatar golf clubs are made in Atlanta," chimed in Sugar, "and are the hottest clubs on the market. They are also on the blacklist of every one of the Native American Nations, which means they all want them. Red Bear's people have also got us some good stuff, Native American crafts have a huge market in Europe and I got us buyer lined up already. We will make small fortune off of this run."

"You bet your fragging hoop we will," said Grey, "and I got my eye on an Ares Predator over at Mel's. If we make enough, we will need to upgrade the firepower on this crate and get some more security devices for the farm."

"If we get the farm outfitted with a good security system, do you think I could bring my children to live with us?" Asked Miriam.

"I guess so, Miriam. But who will take care of them when you are in the field?"

"I have been thinking about that, Grey." Said Frank. "You know the city is getting worse every year, too many people and not enough food. What if we moved our families out to the farm and got it running again, you know, growing food and stuff."

"I would have to think about that." Grey stalled.

"It makes sense, Grey," mused Zed. "The more self-sufficient you are, the less you need to rely on outsiders. Maybe the farm could even turn a profit for you."

"I don't know anything about farming," said Grey.

"The house is big enough for a lot of people, and it's in pretty good shape and it's a lot better than some of the squats our families are living," Sugar pointed out.

"I'd still have to think about it. I don't want a lot of people knowing our business," protested Grey.

Just then the comunit beeped to tell them of an incoming call.

"Is it Riley?" Asked Jose.

"No," answered Sugar, "it's Tony De Souza, in Helltown. He says he has a job for us if we want it, for some big nuyen."

"Put him on speaker, Sugar." Said Grey.

166


	29. Chapter 29

**23 December 2070**

**Denver, Colorado**

**0800 Hours**

"Ok, our mark is leaving her place now." Stated Sugar as she disconnected from the commlink. "She'll meet you outside."

"Roger that," responded Grey over his helmet mic. "I have visual. This is going hot team, two vans just turned the corner and they're moving fast."

Grey gunned the engine on his motorcycle and the elf he was waiting for turned to look at him with eyes that blazed emerald. Grey's breath drew up short, as he saw the gorgeous elf women. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back and she wore a synthleather jacket and a blue skintight jumpsuit that revealed curves that made him want to drool.

"Get on, they're coming!" He yelled at the elf woman and she hopped on the bike behind him without saying a word.

The drivers of the vans spotted their quarry, and revved their motors to catch up. Grey torqued the throttle on the bike and the front wheel came off the ground as the big petrol motor growled in anger. At first he didn't recognize the popping sound that came from behind, but then he realized their pursuers were shooting at them. Grey took the first corner low to the ground, trying to put the cheap apartment high rise the elf woman had been staying in between them and the bullets flying at them. Puffs of white snow erupting around them marked where the incoming rounds were landing. Normally, the motorcycle would have out distanced the vans easily, but treacherous roads kept their speed down, as they could not afford to wreck. The vans that pursued were equipped with special ice tires that sunk sharp spikes into the hard packed snow and ice. They were also driven by professional riggers, drivers who were hardwired into their machines so that the thrumming vibrations of the engine felt like their own hearts beating. Truly becoming one with the machine they drove.

With the bike sliding around corners, Grey maneuvered to keep them out of the gun sites of their pursuers, while the men in the vans opening up with everything they had whenever they had a clear shot. The evasive driving caused Grey to detour from the planned escape route.

"Grey," said Sugar, "I'm tracking your signal on the cities traffic net, you're not where you're supposed to be."

"I have the girl, but I got some fraggers on my tail and their unloading everything they got at us. Give me directions and tell everyone to get ready, if we make it out of the city, its gonna get hot."

"Ok, the local authorities have been alerted to the gun battle, be careful and go left on the next street, you'll pass a large office building, make a right on that street on the north side and go east. I will advise you again when you're on that street."

"Roger that," answered Grey.

Franks voice came over the headset next, "Grey, you want us to come help?"

"Negative, you can't maneuver the hovercraft in the city. Wait for me and be ready for some action. Things are going to be tight, chummer."

"Roger that, Grey." Said Frank.

"Where are you going?" Grey heard the question shouted in his ear.

"I trying to get us to my team, they are waiting for us. I didn't expect trouble to be so close, I'm working my way back to them now. Hang on, I'll get us out of this."

The elf woman reached in her jacket pocket and removed a micro grenade. She looked over her shoulder and counted the number of seconds it took for the first van to pass a sign that had whizzed by them on the left. Then she set the electronic timer to the same number of second and armed the grenade. She dropped the grenade behind just as they took another corner. The first of the pursuing vans took the corner hard, and it would have made the turn, but the grenade detonated just under one of the wheels, the explosion was not enough to damaged the solid reinforced tire, but it did cause the big van to break traction and slide into the side of an electronics store with a terrific crash. The other van continued to pursue. The crew of the crashed van was shaken, but not seriously hurt and neither was the armored vehicle they drove. The van's driver backed out of the storefront window and raced to catch up.

"That was my only grenade," yelled the elf over the wind, "so you better pick up the pace."

"Ok," said Sugar in his ear, "turn right down an alley 75 meters ahead, and then make a left and then another right. You'll come out near the business loop onramp for the flyover, go up the ramp get on to Highway 25, and get off again at exit I tell you."

Just then, the mirror on the bike's left handlebar shattered as a bullet passed through it. Grey took the corner into the alley hard and at the last second, causing the van overshoot the narrow alleyway and continued on, looking for the exit to the alley. Grey followed Sugar's direction and roared up the ramp onto the highway. The driver of the van must have figured out what Grey was up to and headed for the onramp as well. Soon it was back in pursuit, chasing Grey and the elf on the highway too. But the road conditions on the highway were much better, and Grey began to put distance between them and the vans as he wove the big bike in and out of traffic. However, they continued to take fire and their pursuers not seeming to care about stray rounds hitting innocents.

The sound of a chopper caused Grey to look over his shoulder at a white helicopter pacing them as they fled.

"Sugar, I got a chopper tailing me. Is it the police or another one of these fraggers?"

"Neither, it's a news helicopter, your chase is being broadcast all over the tri-vid."

"Oh, fraggin' hell," he muttered.

But Grey had nothing to worry about, someone in the vans, deciding that he wanted his privacy and he opened up with automatic fire at the bird. Grey didn't know if he hit him, but the pilot pulled away and left them alone.

"Take the next exit and make a right at the bottom of the ramp, then a quick left by an abandoned housing facility. Stay on that road until I tell you to get off."

"Understood." Grey replied.

"I'm scrambling the police nav-server with false locations, they aren't going to be able to track you for a short while. I'm also setting off alarms in every major building in town. Hurry your hoop up and get out of town so we can help you." Ordered Sugar.

"I'm trying, frag it. These drekheads are good. They got to be tracking me somehow."

"I'm working on it, but it looks like they got satellite equipment on the back end of those vans. If it's a closed loop, I won't be able to hack it."

"Roger that, Sugar, keep trying."

Eventually, Grey made it to the southern outskirts of the town. The black vans closing again as the road conditions worsened.

"We got visual," said Frank.

The gunner firing from the open top hatch of the lead van knew he had the shot he'd been looking for when they hit a straight stretch of road and their targets were less than a hundred meters in front of them. But just as he lined up this shot, heavy machine gun fire came screaming in to create star patterns on the bullet resistant glass on the van. The glass held up under the initial burst, but armor-piercing rounds were chipping their way through fast. The driver panicked and mentally turned the vehicle with a hard left and the van slid sideways down the road until its tire spikes caught in the pavement and flipped the vehicle on its side. The gunner's boosted reflexes allowed him to drop his weapon and grab the edges of hatch. Snow flew up and blinded him, but he thought he would survive until an explosion, many times bigger than the little explosion that had caused the other van to wreck, flipped the van up into the air and set it spinning until it crashed down just behind Grey and the elf girl with a secondary explosion that threatened to knock them down.

The van had slid over the radio-controlled landmine the team had planted in the snow. Frank brought the hovercraft out of concealment and turned his tail to Grey, dragging the cargo ramp on the snow. Frank accelerated the hovercraft, its tail fans blowing snow in Grey's face. Grey gunned his motor and raced the bike up the lowered cargo ramp and into hovercraft's cargo area. Once parked, he turned to see if his passenger was okay. To his surprise, he found her grinning with excitement and he couldn't help but to grin back. He leapt from the bike, nearly dislodging his passenger ingloriously on the decking, and drew his Colt Manhunter pistol while he knelt and emptied its clip into the van.

"That's not going to penetrate their armor, you know." The elf lady said.

"It just makes me feel better," said Grey. "This is the second time I've been pursued and shot at, and this time, frag it, I'm going to shoot back!

The girl, who had also taken cover by now, laughed merrily at his explanation.

In truth, it did make him feel better. Frank swung the hovercraft due south and they began crossing Chatfield Lake. The van could not follow, of course, but it did stoop behind cover and the gun crew disembarked and took up positions on the lakeshore and peppered the hovercraft with small arms fire. The Electric Buffalo team returned fire until they were out of range.

"Thanks for pulling my hoop out of there, chummers." Said the elf once they were safe.

"Null sheen," Grey said grinning.

"I'm called Cherry Red on the street, but you can call me Amanda."

"I'm called Grey on the street, but since that's my name, you can call me Grey as well." Said Grey thinking that was dumbest thing he'd ever said.

"Ok Grey, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Amanda.

"Girlie," asked Zed, "who were those hombres?"

"AvaTech security personnel. My team of shadowrunners hit them four weeks ago for some of their R and D data. Usually, if a team makes a successful run against a corp and gets away clean, they take it in stride. But AvaTech decided that they were taking a no tolerance policy towards teams that hit them. They've spent a lot of nuyen tracking us down. Two of my mates went down hard and they picked my trail up, thanks to an old boyfriend who cared more for the bounty than me. I called my old chummer Tony to help me out. I guess he called you."

Frank navigated out of the Denver area, and across the Pueblo Council lands following the waypoints Sugar set up for him. Four very tense hours later they crossed back over the border into UCAS territory and headed for their positional indicator, a small electronic package that broadcast their position to the control center at Ft. Riley. They had left it behind so as to appear to be still on station. They had reported trouble with the hovercraft, so no one would be suspicious at their being stationary and why they couldn't respond to any orders to move.

"Didn't the UCAS put border guards out here not too long ago?" Asked Amanda.

"Yeah, that would be us," grinned Grey.

"Oh, now isn't that convenient."

"It works for us", said Jose completely infatuated with the red headed elf.

"What is the plan now?" Asked Amanda.

"We set up the rest of our alibi," Said Grey. "In about twenty minutes the sensors we passed are going to send a delayed signal back to our control center. We will be back in place and then they are going to call us and ask us if we are mobile yet and to investigate the intrusion. We will tell them we just got our hydrogen converter back on line, and we will go chase the phantom that just crossed the border."

"Slick," Amanda said approvingly.

When they did arrive at their former site, Grey's prediction came true and the control center called to see if they were mobile again. Grey acknowledged the call and reported them mobile. They loaded the small black box back on their hovercraft and began to retrace their path.

"Electric Buffalo," came the tinny voice of control, "be advised that the sensors are indicating a continued presence on the border."

The Electric Buffalo team looked at each other and shrugged. The sensors were old and there was probably a glitch in the spliced programming they put in the sensor that delayed the signals. The big machine ran the border until it got to place where they had crossed.

"Control, we do not see anyone," began Sugar, "there is…. Oh My God! Control we have an armored vehicle shooting at us."

An armored T-Bird, its jet engines whining, skimmed the ground at speed the Eagle could not hope to match. The T-Bird was a lean killing machine made up of odd angles to help it hide from radar and was painted a flat black. Its quad machine guns were firing tracer rounds into the side of the team's hovercraft. Caught by surprise, the team did not return fire. Only Frank had the presence of mind to use the lateral thrusters to jink the Eagle to right, avoiding most of the gunfire, but still rounds punched holes in the lightly armored hovercraft.

"Jose, get on the big gun," yelled Grey. "Frank, run like hell!"

The only advantages the team had were their familiarity with the landscape, and Frank's driving skill. Even though the Eagle was not set up for rigger control, still Frank handled the craft expertly, knowing its limitations and knowing what every shudder, noise, or vibration meant. The events around him slowed down until everything moved in slow motion. He feathered back on one of the starboard engines, the latest burst of machine gun fire from the T-Bird ripped up the prairie, and snow and sod flew up next to them. Next, he threw the hovercraft into a one hundred and eighty degree turn, and reversed directions as the two guided missiles the T-Bird had fired tried to correct only to bury themselves into the earth and exploded harmlessly. Desperate, but in control, Frank invented new maneuvers right on the spot, doing anything to avoid the deadly rain of fire from the fast moving T-Bird. Smuggler birds were normally built light, so they were faster and easier to maneuver, this one was heavily armored and slower, but what it gave up in agility, it made up for in firepower and defense. Jose's rounds did little damage to the hull of the T-Bird, as did the small arms fire coming from the team.

Amanda whipped her hand up and spoke in an arcane tongue. A fireball raced outward and exploded harmlessly against the armored glass of the T-Bird cockpit. Zed took a different approach, calling forth an air spirit, a small tornado that swept up snow from the ground. Then he armed a grenade and ordered the spirit to carry it to the intake on one of the jet engines powering the T-Bird. The spirit allowed itself too be sucked up inside the jet engine powering the T-Bird. The elemental was buffeted to nothingness by the rotating manifolds but it delivered the small explosive to its target,. The grenade exploded with a muffled thump and the engine began to smoke, but it continued to function, although it did cost the pilot his shot as he fought to regain control of T-Bird.

Frank swung the Eagle around once more, and he could hear Sugar begging for help over the radio. To busy to be scared, Frank concentrated on the wild dance that was going on between the hovercraft and the enemy craft. He raced for a dry creek bed that cut its way through the loam. It was not very deep, but it did offer more protection from enemy fire. The T-Bird, tacked back and forth over them, spraying them with lead and firing the occasional unguided rocket. Luckily for the team, it had fired its only two guided missiles. They returned fired as best they could, but it did no good. As the draw became shallower, they lost their protection. Just as they emerged the T-Bird came in and hit the hovercraft hard with its machine gunfire. Bullet holes ripped into flesh and steel, and the hovercraft knifed into ground.

In the back, Grey looked up at the canvas covering of the hovercraft where sunlight was streaming in through the bullet holes. Something had knocked him down just before the hovercraft crashed as it skirt shredded and it lost its lift. Grey felt numb all over. He looked over and saw Red Bear lying unconscious and bleeding a short distance away. Zed was grimacing in pain as the bones of his forearm stuck out from a compound fracture. Grey tried to get to his friend Red Bear, but his arms and legs weren't cooperating. Miriam's face swam into view and he could barely hear her as she slapped medical patches on him and began the diagnostic cycle on their autodoc. He knew the T-Bird had to be coming back for the kill, and he tried to warn them, but he couldn't talk. He was completely helpless lying there in the wreckage of the hovercraft.

In the cockpit, Frank watched the T-bird line up for the kill; it had ceased to fire at them but was lining up his rockets to incinerate them. Frank was helpless as the black craft came in fast. Suddenly, the T-Bird erupted into a ball of flame and UCAS fighter jet roared past. The T-Bird had failed to see the jet and had been caught by an air-to-air smart missile.

"Control," Sugar was yelling into her mic, "we have wounded. We need medevac right now!"

Grey was now slipping in and out of consciousness. Sugar's tear streaked face appeared where Miriam's had been, and she was saying something he couldn't hear and kissing his hand she was holding. He tried to squeeze her hand to reassure her, but he wasn't sure if it worked anymore, since he couldn't feel it. He was cold now and thirsty and he thought he heard the whine of the autodoc's emergency call saying someone's heart had stopped. Consciousness became too difficult to hold onto, so he let go and slipped away.

181


	30. Chapter 30

**29 January 2071** Helltown

**0937 Hours**

When he came back into the light, Grey found himself in a hospital where he had been flown by helicopter. It was a small hospital sitting near the runway at Helltown. Although small, the hospital was well equipped to handle most medical emergencies.

Grey was surprised he felt as good as he did when he awoke. They must be pumping me full of endorphins, he thought, if I feel this good after what happened. He lifted his hand to where he could see them; his left arm looked a little pink, but not unduly so. He lifted his head to see his feet, and after he wiggled his toes to find if they still worked, he laid back his head back relieved. Then he remembered the images of his friends lying motionless on the floor of the hovercraft and he panicked and he started to pull out the needles and tubes that were connecting to various machines. He had just got his feet on the floor when a frantic nurse came running into the room to find our why her patient had flatlined. She frowned at him when she saw what he had done and put her hands on her hips. She was dressed in blue scrubs and carried an electronic stethoscope around her neck.

"Where are my friends?" Gasped Grey, his throat dry and rough from the pure oxygen they had been giving him.

"You need to lie down and let me hook these machines back up. You have some friends in the waiting area, I will send them to see you as soon as you lay down again," explained the dark haired nurse.

"Frag that," said Grey, staggering to his feet. "I need to know how my friends are doing."

The brewing argument was forestalled when Lieutenant Meyers came into the room.

"At ease, trooper." He commanded. "The rest of your team is fine. You were the one who got the worst of your little firefight. Everyone else got out of the hospital weeks ago."

"Weeks ago?" Asked Grey incredously.

"You've been under for over a month," explained Meyers. "They had to re-grow a lot of soft tissue and bone. Used nanobots to do a lot of internal repairs on your major organs, not to mention pump enough blood into you to fill a bathtub. You flatlined three different times, the longest time you were down for over two minutes. Your medic saved your life. You're fortunate to have her on your team."

"Sounds likes I got lucky," said Grey, "and you said everyone else is okay?"

"Yes, you and your whole squad got lucky. You went up against heavy armor in that little tin bucket of yours, and where as you personally didn't make it out in one piece, you did get out alive, mostly. A couple of your people got hurt, but they are fine now. Your hovercraft got busted up pretty bad, but I hear your rigger is working it now, while you're lying around at government expense."

The nurse, knowing her job, had Grey back in bed now and reattached the machines. She left the two men alone and they continued their conversation.

"The doc said you'd probably wake up this afternoon," said Meyers, "so I thought I'd come by and debrief you on the incident, if you were up to it."

"Null sheen," said Grey a little scared that their illegal activities would be discovered. He hoped like hell that the others had stuck to their cover story.

"Ok, can you tell me what happened? Start at the beginning."

"It's pretty simple Lieutenant, we had just got our hydrogen converter unit back online when control called and reported a border intrusion. They ordered us to go look, and we proceeded to the point of breach. Our radar didn't show anything, and we had just begun to have a look around when the armored T-bird came at us from behind a hill and opened up on us. We returned fire as best we were able, but we were totally outclassed by the T-bird. We tried to run, but we couldn't get away and our guns wouldn't penetrate its armor. Eventually, they took us down and we crashed. I got hit and lost consciousness. I don't know what happened after that. The T-bird had us dead to rights, so I don't know why any of us made it."

The army lieutenant looked closely at him and Grey felt like a car was sitting on this chest. Using his hands for emphasis, Meyers asked him a question.

"Ok, this is really important and I want to you be honest and completely open with me, Grey. Did you engage the T-bird first, and were you on the UCAS side of the boarder?"

"We did not engage the T-Bird first, Lieutenant. We didn't even have our heavy machine gun manned at the time and we were definitely on our side of the fence when it opened up on us. We didn't have anything that would scratch the armor of that bird."

"That grooves with what your teammates reported as well. We also got your coordinates from the Control Center at Riley. I'm going to tell you, this has opened up a very ugly can of worms at the highest level. Your local senator is raising seven kinds of hell back East. There is going to be an official inquiry, and your nose better be very clean, is that understood?"

"I understand, Sir. But who were they and why did they attack us? How did we survive?"

"Apparently they were a private security out of the Sioux nations. They claim they were pursuing a shadowrunner that had come across our border and were in pursuit. They identified you, so it seems, as the runners, and lit you up. And the reason you're alive is because we had a fighter aircraft close enough to pull your hoop from the fire."

"Did you recover the vid footage from the Eagle, Sir? If you had that, you could see the fight for yourself."

"You're decker is working on that. Your onboard computer took a hit, and we hope she can bring some other evidence to the table. Not that you're in trouble, but this isn't going to be pleasant for anyone. You're going to be grilled pretty hard, and the whole CDI program could be in jeopardy because of this."

"Why would they shut down the program down, Sir?"

"No one has specifically said they were going to shut the program down, but there is a lot of opposition by Army brass to the program. If they can find a reason to get rid of it, they will. That is why you need to be squeaky clean on this."

"We were acting under orders, Sir. How can they fault us for that?"

The Special Forces lieutenant noticed Grey's anxiety and tried to reassure him.

"Look, just tell the truth and everything will be fine. You did the best you could out there and you got some friends in the Army, and we'll do what we can to put the best spin possible on the situation."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Null sheen," said the army officer, "I think there are some people who want to talk to you now. Want me to send them in?"

"Sure, that would be great."

Red Bear, Sugar, and Frank came into the room after Meyers had told them Grey was awake. They were all happy and smiling and Sugar took his hand and wouldn't let go the entire time, which surprised Grey. They filled Grey in on what had happened after he had become unconscious and how bad each had been hurt and reassured him everyone was fine. Amanda was staying at the farm as was okay. They had called Tony, and he had a chopper pick her up at the crash site where she had hidden after the team had been medevaced to the hospital in Helltown.

Frank showed off his new datajacks in his skull, and he reported that the Eagle would be flying again, better and faster than before because it would be set to fly by rigger. Grey had found out Tony's payment had included a nice bonus and they were all spending freely.

"I also got the skills package put in," Frank explained excitedly, "now I can download engineering programs that will help me when I build. I never got to go to college to be an engineer, but this is a close second. I think it's going to help a lot when I finish modifying the Eagle. I got a good deal on some jet engines. Mel had some old Russian MIG motors in her barn. We'll be screaming across the prairie now!

"Sounds good, chummer." Grey said with a smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "Is there anything else going on I should know about?"

The three friends looked at each other, losing their smiles.

"What's going on?" Asked Grey, alerted by their mood swing.

"Grey," said Sugar, "it's your uncle. He overdosed on the BTLs, and he died. We followed his will and had him cremated. We're sorry you weren't there, but you were unconscious here and it couldn't wait."

Grey took in a deep breath and blew it out before saying, "That's okay guys, you helped me out and I appreciate it. I can't say I'm really surprised, his addiction was getting worse everyday."

"Frank's been looking after your salvage yard," said Sugar, "him and Jose and Red Bear here. It's not doing much business since you left. Your uncle couldn't run the place by himself. It's costing you money to keep it open."

"I'll officially close it down when I get out of here. Thanks again guys for helping me out, I really appreciate it."

"Null sheen, Chummer." Said Frank gravely.

"Your friend," said a voice from the doorway "needs his rest. He'll be going home in a few days, you can all chat then."

They turned to see a balding man wearing a white doctor's coat standing in the doorway.

"I'm Doctor Bradford Goddard," the dark mana mage said with a smile. "I'm your friend's doctor."

Grey's friends bid him farewell, at the doctor's urging, and the doctor ran the diagnostic program on the life-monitor to which Grey was attached. The doctor pursed his lips and scanned the readings.

"Well," said the doctor, "everything is in the green. The reconstruction was successful, and you're young, so your body mended quite well. I'm going to increase the electro-stimulation therapy, which will give your muscles some exercise. It's not very pleasant, but it won't hurt."

"Doc," asked Grey, "how bad was I hit, really?"

"I can honestly say that I've never done this much reconstruction on a patient before and have them live. Your medic saved your life, you know. If she hadn't responded just when she did and just how she did, you'd be buried out there. As it was, between your medic and your autodoc, they managed to keep oxygen flowing in your system, even after your wounded heart gave out. No brain damage was detected, and we've repaired all the other damaged tissue."

Grey let out a long breath, trying to fathom being so close to death. He stared at the ceiling, thinking hard about the event.

"Doc?"

"Yes?" Asked the dark mage distractedly as he programmed the electro-stimulator.

"Do you offer other services here? I mean do you install cyberware?"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, that is standard here. Most cyber implants are done on an outpatient surgery basis now, unless you want your bones reinforced or have limbs or organs replaced."

"Nothing like that," said Grey. "I want to get my reflexes boosted, and have a smartgun link installed. Can you do that?"

"Certainly, we do those all the time. It's not strictly legal mind you, but this is Helltown and we get a lot of, shall we say transients, who need or want cyber implants without all of the normal formalities. I'd recommend our "Urban War Package Deal". You can get the smartgun link, the reflexes, and low light and thermal capabilities. You don't even have to have your eyes removed anymore; the hardware is inserted into your own eyes via nanobots. You'll also need a datajack, I noticed you didn't have one, but they are required for a lot of heavier weapons. Interested?"

"Very. Let me know what it's going to cost"

"I will have one of my assistants come in and talk to you in the morning and they will explain all of the details." Said the doctor.

"Thanks Doc."

"Null sheen."

At the end of the week Grey was once more back at the farm. Much to his surprise, there were over thirty people living at the farm now. It seemed as if anyone who had family moved them to the farm, and some of their friends as well. He got another surprise when Frank pulled the truck up to a stop in front of the old farmhouse, Amanda came flying out of the door and jumped into Grey's arms and kissed him soundly on the mouth. The rest of the team came out to greet their returning leader; including Sugar who's face was turning dark with jealousy and anger.

"I am sooo glad you're alive!" Exclaimed the beautiful elven mage. "You took a bullet for me, I won't ever forget that. We're true chummers now!"

"Uh, your welcome." Said the nonplussed Grey whose own face was flushed at fiery redhead's kiss.

The rest of the team came down the steps to shake hands and slap Grey on the back. He smiled and joked with them all until he came to Miriam. He embraced her and whispered a thank you in her ear. The ork woman smiled at him and gave him a hug that nearly cracked ribs. He smiled at Sugar, but she only gave him a wan smile in return and congratulated him on his recovery. Her manner puzzled him, but he was unable to find out why she was so distance because his friends pounded his back until he went into the house to open the booze to celebrate his return.

In the weeks that followed, Frank rebuilt the Eagle, removing the electric motors with their propellers, and replacing them with alcohol burning jet motors. The Eagle would soar faster than it ever had before, and hit with a harder punch. The single heavy machine gun emplacement was replaced with four, two facing out from each side of the hovercraft. Where the old gun had been, Frank mounted an electric turret with hard points for missiles and rockets. The next time they tangled with an armored vehicle, they would have the power to take it down. With the extra thrust being provided by the jets, he was able to increase the armor shielding as well.

Grey, not wanting to be around the noise in the crowded house, walked the edges of his land and worked out in the barn, getting use to his new cyberware. Once when he and Jose sparred, and the little fighter couldn't even touch him, Jose decided to get his own enhancements and drove off in the truck the very next day with Red Bear, whom he talked into getting the combat package as well. Sugar still avoided him, and wouldn't say what was bothering her, but Amanda walked with him sometimes and they talked about their lives. They found they both shared the same dream of excitement and danger and getting paid for it all.

"I can't believe you live out here where it's so dangerous," she remarked as the walked in the light of a sunset. Her arm linked in his.

"It's not anymore dangerous than the Redmond Barrens, or so I've heard."

"Probably not," she agreed, "but the dangers out here aren't familiar to me. Did you actually get attacked by a pack of barghests?"

"Yeah," said Grey, "we got lucky that time. We are more prepared now and it's sort of become a right of passage in the CDI to bag one of the paranormal animals. A lot of people have hired themselves out as protection on some of the farms, keeping the metabeasts from destroying livestock. Barghests are the worse because the native animals can't compete with them and they don't just hunt for food, they will paralyze and kill an entire herd of animals out of pure meanness."

Amanda shivered at the thought of actually going out and looking for such animals. Unbeknownst to them, Sugar watched them strolling about from the upstairs window. Her anger had reached a boiling point, and although she wanted to shoot the redheaded trollop walking with Grey, she decided to confront him instead.

Later that evening when Grey was alone in the loft of the barn and pounding on the heavy bag, Sugar came steaming up the stairs. She saw him there, sweating and stripped to the waist. His muscles were taunt and she desired him as much as she wanted to wring his neck. His hands blurred as the struck at his targets in quick succession, the noise echoing in the loft.

"Hey, there you are," he said when he saw her come up the steps. "Are you talking to me yet?"

"Just who do you think you are?" Sugar demanded loudly with her hands on her hips.

"Huh?" Responded the dumbfounded Grey.

"I put up with your sorry hoop, drag myself all over creation, risking prison and death and you take up with some floozy, who was the reason you got shot, by the way. Are you going to answer me, or are you just going to stand there looking stupid?"

"What's a floozy?" Asked Grey perplexed.

"Don't fraggin' play games with me Grey Braddock. I'm not in the mood!" Sugar was yelling now.

Grey pulled the leather mitts from his hands to stall for time. His brain was working overtime, and a light began to go on in his mind. He couldn't help but smile at his own obtuseness.

"What is your name?" He asked her.

"What? You know my fraggin' name."

"So, your mother named you Sugar, and your daddy's last name was Blue?" He asked.

"Of corse not," Sugar sanpped.

"You don't trust us much do you? I mean you keep your name hidden from us."

"Don't try to change the subject," she said angrily.

"Tell me your name, your real name." Grey said it as a challenge.

"I like Sugar better."

"Tell me your name," he demanded once again as he walked toward her. "Amanda told us her name."

"That's got nothing to do with me and your little tramp."

Grey walked up until he towered over her, with hands unnaturally fast, he grabbed her wrists and pushed her up against the wall. He pinned her hands over her head and leaned into her so she couldn't move. She struggled, but she couldn't break free of his hold.

"Tell me your name," he said again in a low voice, his eyes smoldering.

"Let me go," she said in a small voice.

"No." He said simply.

She could smell his sweat now, and the look in his eyes frightened her as he held her helpless.

"It's April. April Day, that's why I changed it," she said.

He kissed her hard upon the mouth. She tried to push him away at first, but he wouldn't relent, holding her tighter, demanding a response from her. Then she began to kiss him back just as hard. He let go of her hands and she put her arms around him, as he kissed her throat, his breathing heavy. She answered with small noises of desire until they were entwined together, giving way to their desire.

193


	31. Chapter 31

**31 January 2071**

**Pratt "Helltown" Kansas**

**1950 Hours**

Marshal Starn watched Captain Bentley walk the streets of Helltown with his cold hands in the pocket of a synthleather jacket. Starn wondered what the Lone Star officer was doing back in Helltown without backup. What Starn did not know was that someone had contacted Sgt. Boothe, who then contacted Capt. Bentley, to collect the reward being offered for information on the hijackings.

Starn did know the LSHP captain was a dedicated and tenacious lawman. When Bentley found the bar he was looking for he went inside. Starn took up position on top of a single story building across the street and watched him with his cybereyes through the plexiglass window. Starn could see he was drinking as little beer as he could get by with, trying to fit in, but also to stay alert. It was obvious he was waiting for something because he kept checking his old-fashioned wrist chronometer.

After two hours, Starn figured the meet was a bust. Whomever he was supposed to have meet wasn't going to show. A burst of automatic weapons fire sounded from the main drag a few streets over, and using his greatly enhanced strength, the Iron Marshal leaped from the building he had been perched to another rooftop forty meters away, and then onto another that overlooked Main Street.

Disgusted, Bentley left the bar and went outside, the cold air quickly brought his mind back into focus and, re-depositing his hands back into his jacket pockets, he began to walk to his vehicle, an older model Land Rover parked two blocks over in a locked storage facility. He looked up, expecting to find stars crystal bright in the sky, but the sky was dark as if a shadow was moving across it. Suddenly, as he would describe it later, his soul got cold. The blackness that blotted out the stars began to form around him, a creeping miasma of death. Swearing, he pulled his service pistol from its shoulder holster and swung it up looking for a target. But in the choking darkness, he could see nothing, and no target presented itself. Then the most excruciating pain began. It felt to him as if each cell in his body was exploding. As the contact became more intense, he became aware of a hunger that drove the darkness, but he also became aware of that behind the hunger an intelligence at work.

Captain Bentley thought he could detect a rough approximation of where the person, or thing, was that was killing him. He fired several shots, but the pain did not relent. The Pain became so intense he could no longer stand or hold the gun up and he fell to his knees. He prayed that he would pass out, but realized that there would be no mercy in the darkness and that he would know every moment of the cruelest pain possible.

Starn had just finished shooting the gun wielder in both kneecaps to remind him that firing a gun within the city limits was against the law when he heard Bentley's shots. Moving fast the way he had come, over the rooftops, he returned to his original vantage point, and saw a black cloud of unearthly darkness roiling and undulating in the street.

Switching his vision mode and using a thermal scan, he could barely make out the figure of the Lone Star officer who was kneeling in the street. He could not discern any other person on the street, so he jumped down and bounded to where Bentley was kneeling.

As soon, entered the black cloud, pain burned in all the parts of him that were still flesh and bone. He too felt both the hunger and the mind directing its action as his life essence was drained out him. With grinding teeth, he kept moving until he reached Bentley and then he roughly threw the captain out of the black cloud.

Starn felt the darkness' master grow angry with him and the attack seem to intensify, and his flesh burned with intense agony. Had been composed completely, or even mostly, of flesh, surely his strength would have failed him. But, Starn was called the Iron Marshal because of his numerous cyber enhancements, and those he could keep going by force of will. He knew on some primordial level where the source of the darkness was, and putting one cyber foot in front of the other, he made his way forward and then lashed out in a sweeping circle with his razor claws.

He was rewarded with feel of alloy slicing through flesh and he heard a scream, franticly he swung blind hitting twice more and then the pain was gone, and light returned. His enemy was fleeing and the darkness fled as well. Only his cyber limbs kept him moving as he picked the unconscious Bentley up and dragged him to the town jail.

Bentley regained consciousness in the early morning hours and sat up with a groan. His skin covered in what looked like red spider webs.

"Welcome back to realm of the living, Captain." Starn said from where he sat in his office chair."

"What happened?" Groaned Bent.

"Some sort of attack by a unknown mage using unknown magic. You were ambushed when you left the Sahara and I managed to save you." Starn said.

"Did you apprehend the attacker?"

"No, but I did wound him. I was affected by the magic as well. It appears the spell, or whatever, only attacks living tissue. My cyber-enhancements allowed me to fight back and drive the mage away."

"You said you drove 'him' away, are you certain it was a man?"

"Definitely," Starn asserted, "he screamed when I cut him. It was a man's scream."

"It seems I owe you my thanks, Marshal." Admitted the Lone Star captain reluctantly as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I told you this town was dangerous, yet you continue to come here without telling me. You are lucky I stumbled upon you when I did."

"It's said you're more dangerous than the gangs here, Starn."

"That is the chip truth, Captain." Said Starn. "I _am_ more dangerous than the gangs, and that is why I am alive. Being the predator at the top of the food chain is the best life insurance a person can have."

"I'm a cop, Starn. Not a predator."

"And maybe that is why you needed a predator to save you tonight," observed Starn with a grin.

185


	32. Chapter 32

**8 February 2071** **Braddock Farm** **1422 Hours**

Grey stood in stillness, his eyes closed, centering himself. When the ping of a spring sounded, his eyes opened and his hands flew to his guns unnaturally fast, thanks to his enhanced reflexes. The skeet machine was throwing bright orange disks of baked clay out of its maw at two per second. When his hands touched the handles of his matched Ares Predator pistols, the smartlink system engaged. Two icons appeared, crosshairs for the right-handed pistol, and a circle with a dot for the left handed pistol. The orange disk was fifteen meters out now and the second disk was just leaving the machine. He mentally disabled the saftey on both gun and the programs running in his augmentations identified all the possible targets, highlighting them and matching their flight with the ammo data streaming from the gun, determining the meters per second the bullet would travel. It then matched that information to the flight speed and angle of travel and a small flashing dot appeared and he lined the targeting crosshairs on it and pulled the trigger. The clay bird disenigrated instantly. He fired his second pistol at the other bird, this one skimming the ground. The second disk met the same fate as the first.

Red discs continued to fly and he fired until both guns were empty, then he mentally disengaged the magazines and they fell to the ground, but before they struck earth, he jammed pistols down onto the magazines sticking forward out of his holsters at an angle. Compressed gas pushed the magazines upwards into the magazine well, and Grey closed the slides on the big pistols and fired again, turning the next target to dust just as the empty magazines hit the ground. He fired until the guns were empty again and then he holstered the weapons and he took off his hearing protection.

"That's good shooting," a voice came from behind him. When he turned around, he saw the Major Armstrong, a General, and Congressman Breakstone with a female aid standing on top of the creekbank.

Grey was surprised but covered it by grabbing his jacket hanging from branch of a small hedge tree. He came up from the creekbed, saluted the General and shook hands with everyone as Major Armstrong made introductions. He was glad Amanda had left the previous evening, with hugs and kisses for everyone, much to Sugar's annoyance.

"How can I help, y'all?" Grey asked.

"We need to interview you about the incident on our border, Mr. Braddock," Congressman Breakstone replied.

They were all "interviewed" for over eight hours and Grey was worried their duplicity would be discovered, but they survived the interrogation with their secrets intact. Late in the afternoon, at the congressman's request, Grey gave him a tour of the farm. The congressman seemed pleased at what he saw, and praised them for their efforts to be self-sufficient. When the day was done, the VIPs left the farm in an armored limosine.

The suspension of the limosine was tested by the cratered road as they moved away.

"What do you think, congressman?" Asked General Meeks.

"Their story will stand up under close scrutiny, if it comes to that," answered the silver-haired politician.

"They are hiding something, but you know that." Said the General.

"Yes, I was asking myself where they got the money to feed that many people on what they earn working for the CDI. I don't know what it could be, however."

"I think I can answer that," volunteered Major Armstrong.

"Oh?" Asked the Congressman.

"Rumor has it they have been smuggling goods between the ConFeds and the NANs."

"Anything we need to worry about?" Asked General Meeks.

"You mean weapons or intelligence, Sir? Nothing like that, mostly just small loads of luxury items that are easy to sell. We suspected something of the sort when they showed up for training with all the gear. Other than breaking import laws in three different countries, nothing they are doing really concerns us much."

The congressman looked at the two military men and said, "You two seem very laissez faire about this."

General Meyers spoke, "Congressman, in the Special Forces we often deal with people who have to use, how to say it...alternative sources for funding their efforts. Minor larceny is one of the tamer ways, I assure you."

"Also, you have to consider," explained the Troll major, "that we need them to be as self-sufficient as possible because we aren't giving them much to work with. That group is the best of them all, and if we are going to make this program work, we are going to need them. If we can get some real funding, then we wouldn't be so quick to turn a blind eye toward illegal activity. But you know better than us how hard that is to come by these days."

"True," agreed the Congressman breezily. He didn't really look all that upset about the illegal activity.

"I believe," said the General, "that you have your own reasons why you are not going to report them."

The congressman gave a little smile and said, "They are doing exactely what I hoped they would do when I created this program. That farm is a seed, a very small seed, and I'm hoping it will sprout like a weed. The more we can get the people of this nation to stop relying on the government and corporations, the stronger we will be."

Grey and the team stayed up late discussing the visit and, in the end, were cautiously optimistic that they had pulled their bacon out of the fire.

"Frank," asked Grey, "what's the situation with the hovercraft?"

"I just completed a series of test runs and the Eagle is ready fly into action again. With the extra speed, heavier armor, and a way serious upgrade in firepower, we are ready to go."

"Good, we've all spent a lot of nuyen and we need to get back in the game as soon as possible. Now I have another question; where did all these people come from?"

The team looked sheepish, but admitted that they had invited the squatters to the farm.

"I guess we should have asked you first," demured Sugar.

"Yes, you should have. I am laying it on the line right now. I don't want them here. I'm not going to throw them off the property, but no more people. Is that understood?"

They all agreed to that and we're glad they would not have to force family and friends off the farm. There may only have a vague hope on the farm for a better life, but there was no hope in the city.

Grey rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I'm leaving it up to Frank and Miriam to make sure there is no problems here with all the people living together. If I have to get involved in a bunch of petty squabbles...well, I won't be involved in any petty squabbles, is that clear?"

"No problem, Grey." Said Frank with Miriam nodding agreement.

"Tony sent us a job offer," announced Grey, "a corporate geek out of Denver is looking for bodyguards for a trip to Miami. He's doing some shady business with the Carribean League and he wants some insurance."

"Brains or muscle?" Asked Sugar.

"Muscle," answered Grey. "Just some guns to back him up. But we will need some I.D. before we go down there."

"The ConFeds' identification system is easier to hack than any other government's. They don't have national identification, each state has issues its own. I can even get us some legit tags out of Lousiana, their beaurecrats practically advertise their bribe rates on the Matrix." Sugar explained to them as she leaned against Grey's arm.

"Sounds good. I'm taking Red Bear, Frank, and Jose with me. Red Bear will be long range with a sniper rifle, Frank and I will be the mook's shadows and Jose is going to our invisible interpreter and infiltration man. Sugar, you can ride shotgun via the Matrix, we'll keep our links open for you. We'll jump the fence into the Arkansas in the usual way and meet our guy at the Orlando airport. This operation should only take five days at the most. Any questions?"

"If you're taking these mooks on vacation in a nice warm subtropical paradise, you are taking us, too," said Sugar in a tone not to be argued with.

Grey started to object, but when he saw the looks he was getting from the women, he threw up his hands and agreed.

203


	33. Chapter 33

**2 March 2071**

**Western Kansas**

**1312 Hours**

"We need to head back now, Captain," Said the Lone Star Pilot.

"Alright," answered Josiah Bentley as he rubbed his tired eyes. The hijackings were occurring with greater frequency now. Five automated trucks had been taken without a trace in the last month.

None of his sources could pinpoint who was the new muscle being used to do the dirty work. Bentley surmised that it must be one of the smaller gangs, since the more people in a group the more likely information was to leak out. So far, he had nada.

Lone Star aircraft were following likely targets, playing guardian angel to automated trucks. A few of the shipments were nothing more than bait; instead of the listed merchandise the trucks contained Lone Star SWAT teams in the back. None of those trucks had been targeted.

He was feeling the heat from above. The brass wanted results on the hijackings and Bent knew he was very close to a career-ending debacle. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his tired eyes. The situation was reaching critical mass, and he was tired of being two steps behind the people responsible for the hijackings. His own resources were stretched as thin as they could go. There was just too much territory and too much traffic for his men to watch.

Bentley had long ago fallen into the habit of having a running dialog in his head to help him think problems through.

"Ok Bent," he began his inner debate, "it's time to take a step back and see the big picture. What's the first question you can think of?"

"Easy, why haven't they taken the nice juicy bait you've been putting out there?"

"Because they know they're traps."

" How do they know?"

" Because someone is telling them, that's why."

"Is it Starn?"

"It can't be. I haven't included him in the planning; it's all been done in-house in LSHP."

"But didn't Starn give away your raid on the Grinder's Compound?"

"You assumed he did, but you had no real proof. Bad thing for a cop to do, make assumptions without proof, Bent."

"Who else could have known you were going there?"

"No one else was…wait; Sgt. Boothe was there too."

"Was he guarding your back like he said, or was he spying on you?"

"He could have been spying on me, and he knew about the decoy trucks. Frag!"

"Ok, if Boothe is selling you out, how are you going to prove it?"

"I will have to set him up somehow."

"It can't be obvious, and if the set up fails, it's got to look natural."

"How am I going to do that?

"I don't know, but you're going to need help, and it can't be anyone inside of Lone Star."

"Who then?"

"It's got to be Starn."

"Oh, drek." Bentley said out loud to the puzzlement of his chopper pilot.

207


	34. Chapter 34

**6 March 2071** Marshal Starn's Office – Pratt, Kansas

**0903 Hours**

"So what is it that you want from me, Captain?" Asked Marshal Starn from where he sat behind his desk. "If your own organization has been compromised, I don't know how much help I can be to you. My authority ends at the edge of this town."

"I can give you the authority to move outside of this town simply by requesting your help. I will put it in writing to make sure it's official." Bent answered.

"That explains the how, but not the why, Captain Bentley." Starn countered. "Why should I help you?"

"Because you're a cop, Starn."

The Iron Marshal gave him an ironic smile before saying, "A cop you believe to be crooked and in league with criminals. A cop whose methods you disapprove of, and I suspect whose sanity you doubt."

"Starn," retorted Bentley, "I don't like what goes on in this town, I never have. I don't particularly like you. And I'm not offering you any deals, so there won't be any favors to be called in later. I'm not offering you any money, other than covering some of your expenses, and I'm not going to look the other way if I see something criminal happening. But, I am hoping you are enough of a cop, and not just a hired bully, to give me your assistance as one professional to another."

The sardonic smile never left the cybered cop's lips, but he nodded his head and replied, "It seems we have been short on professional courtesy lately, so to improve that situation, I will assist you then, as one professional to another. What do you want me to do?"

"First, I need to know which gang is performing the hijackings. Can you find that information out?"

"No," replied the Marshal, "but only because I have already tried and failed. I have sources in most of the gangs, and no one knows anything. Something this big would have had to leak. But I can tell you that it was the Scalpers who wiped out the Grinders' compound."

"Do you think the Scalpers took over the hijackings then?" Asked Bentley.

"The Scalpers are not mentally stable enough to wipe their hoops consistently let alone conduct precise operations."

Bent handed the marshal a hardcopy of an extra-jurisdictional authorization to him. Bent prayed silently that he wasn't making a big mistake, allowing the mercenary marshal to slip out of his Helltown cage.

"That's your authority to operate anywhere in the state as a law enforcement officer."

"Ah, I have been give a Letter of Marque," quipped Starn whose smile widened at the bemused frown that formed on Bentley's face. "Do not fear, Captain, I will be discreet."

Bentley decided not to rise to Starn's bait, but brought out a datapad and hooked into Starn's deck. "This is all the information on LSHP operations for the last two years regarding the hijackings. Please review it, and give me any feedback you feel is pertinent."

Starn's cybereyes did not blink as he scanned the information. "I will look at it and see if I can see something in there you don't. But I want to ask, what is your immediate plans?"

"Honestly, I'm stuck. Besides you, and I can't believe I'm saying this, I can't trust anyone, even my own people at Lone Star."

"Then you need to recruit some people who you can trust and who aren't apart of Lone Star," remarked the Marshal, "but who can still operate in at least a semi-official manner for you."

Bentley looked sidelong at the mercenary and asked, "Do you have someone in mind?"

Starn nodded his head once and suggested, "Recruit some of these scouts the army sent out here to patrol the border. They are official, or at least semi-official, government agents out here. They are a rough crew, but they've managed to survive out here, and that says a lot for them. I can contact their commander, and I can always deputize them if necessary."

Bentley thought hard for several minutes. He had heard of the scouts, but he thought of them mostly as being civilians playing soldier. But Starn was hard to impress, which made his endorsement that much stronger.

"If you deputized them, I can extend the authorization I gave you to include them." Bentley thought out loud.

"That is what I was thinking." Admitted Starn. "Our city charter and state law doesn't allows for military personnel to be deputized, but these are civilian scouts, so we should be in the clear. They will give you more of eyes and ears out there that no one will know exists. I doubt my asking for them to be deputized is going to cause much of a concern to anyone, as long as they think they are just here to help control the gangs in Helltown and they don't find out that they've been given carte blanche in the state."

"And you can arrange this?" Asked Bent.

"I will make the call now." Starn assured him.

Bentley was surprised at how fast permission was given. A conference call was set up with the troll major in charge of the group, and some general in Washington D.C. The major then contacted several of the scout teams and ordered them to report to Helltown. Most of them were close enough to make it in a few hours. Major Armstrong informed them that he would be taking a military transport from Ft. Riley and would be there in a few hours "to discuss particulars". Bent knew he would have to tell the Major the real reason why the wanted the troops. While they were waiting, he and Starn would be brainstorming on how best to use the scouts.

208


	35. Chapter 35

**8 March 2071** Pratt "Helltown" Kansas

**2230 Hours**

(Author's Note: If you are following along as I post, I need to inform you I had left out chapter 31by accident and have had to go back and insert it. )

The Post Office in Helltown had become the unofficial home for the scouts patrolling the western territory. Starn had explained to Bent that the owner, who would not be there this night, didn't mind at all, since there was little fighting amongst themselves, but had come out on top in several fights with local gangers. This had made the Post Office the quietest bar in town. Even the largest of the go-gangs respected them and stayed away, or at least behaved themselves while they were there. For Tony, this meant he did not have to patch as many bullet holes.

Hides from paranormal animals were now hanging on the wall. Brought in by the scout teams along with other trophies of skulls, claws, and bright feathers. The prairie had taken a toll on the teams, many of which had lost crew members to the wilds. One team had disappeared on the prairie near the QZ border, leaving only their equipment and vehicles behind to be discovered later by a search party. But all of them were seasoned veterans now, as deadly as the region the newsvids called the "New Serengeti".

The presence of the scouts had gone a long way in quieting the fears of the few small towns and farms that still existed in the West. Indeed, the scout patrols had developed a good relationship with the westerners; mostly by making sure they swung in close to homesteads and hunting anything big enough to be a threat to them or their precious livestock. Of course, the scouts were happy to collect the bounties on the metabeasts, so the relationship was mutually beneficial.

Bent Bentley walked into the bar, following Starn and Armstrong, and felt the eyes of the scouts turn to him. He was not wearing his uniform since he didn't want to advertise his presence. He did not feel any hostility, just a grudging curiosity from the scouts. They were also wary, he could tell, but that was a basic survival trait both in Helltown and on the plains. No one said a word as Starn swept the room for listening devices and then set up a white noise generator to defeat any passive recording devices. The scouts observed Starn's efforts in silence.

"It looks like everyone is here, good," said Major Armstrong in a strong voice. "Before we get started, I want to remind everyone here that they are volunteers in the UCAS military, and as such they are subject to military law and discipline. I am reminding you of this, because what is going to be discussed here in this room will not be repeated to anyone at anytime. Doing so violates the parameters of your mission and will be treated as an act of treason. Is this clear to you all?"

The scouts murmured and nodded their assent and Major Armstrong continued.

"Excellent. These men with me are Marshal Starn, whom you know, and Captain Bentley of the Lone Star Highway Patrol. The mission they are going to explain to you could be vital to the survival of the scout program, so don't frag this up."

Armstrong motioned for Starn to address the troops gathered in the bar. His cybereyes looked out at the men in front of him, sending chills down their backs and then he spoke. "In just a few minutes, I'm going to swear all of you in as Deputy City Marshals of Pratt, Kansas. You will have full legal authority to make arrests and investigate crimes within the city limits."

This statement brought laughter to the room, since they knew the town was one big crime syndicate and the Iron Marshal never arrested anyone. He either geeked them outright, or broke all of their limbs and dumped on the outskirts of town. Justice was brutal in Helltown, but Starn made sure it was swift and cost effective.

"Quiet!" Ordered Major Armstrong.

"Once you are deputized," Starn continued, unperturbed, "you will then be given state-wide powers of arrest by Capt. Bentley of Lone Star so that you may assist them in an on-going investigation."

That statement made everyone lean in closer as Bent came forward to speak to the men. "As you've heard, I'm Capt. Bentley of the Lone Star Highway Patrol. I am the reason you have been called here tonight. For sometime now, LSHP has been investigating the disappearance of automated trucks from the highways in western Kansas. The pattern is always the same; the vehicle's AI and locator beacon go dead, and the truck disappears into thin air. We had a lead on a go-gang, but when we raided the ganger compound, everyone was already dead. Contrary to what you might have heard, Lone Star did not commit this atrocity. We now know it was the Scalpers, but we don't know who they were working for at the time.

"After the Grinders were wiped out, the hijackings stopped, but they began again. Neither mine, nor Marshal Starn's investigations, have given us any clue to as to who is doing this. We surmise that it is a go-gang, or a group affiliated with a go-gang, who is doing the actual hijacking. We have several operations running at the moment, including decoy operations and aerial observation of cargo movers with a manifest of goods most likely to be hit. Despite our best efforts, the hijackers have managed to elude every trap we set."

"Sounds like you got a rat in the woodpile, Captain." Zed said from where he was leaning his chair against the wall. Everyone turned and looked at the old shaman.

Bentley took a deep breath and exhaled before saying, "It has occurred to us that our operations might have been compromised by personnel within LHSP. That is why we are recruiting you. You will be operating in secret, but with full authority, but also outside of the normal channels of Lone Star."

Grey raised his hand and asked, "What is it that you want us to do?"

"That's a good question," Bent said, "I am going to outline the plans that Marshal Starn and myself have drawn up. We will be using three squads of scouts to shadow likely targets, and act as decoys and engage anyone trying to hijack one of these cargo movers."

"You said these trucks just disappear into thin air, Captain?" Asked one of the scout's not on Grey's team.

"Affirmative. The trucks that have been hijacked have completely disappeared. We do not know where they are at or what happened to them. In addition, I have obtained a warrant to search the premises of the group we believe to be responsible for the atrocity at the Grinder's compound."

"You want to serve a search warrant on the Scalpers?" Someone asked incredously while the others just laughed. "But you would need an army to…oh, drek."

The laughter faded quickly as Bentley nodded his head in agreement and then understated, "You should expect heavy resistance."

Bentley noticed that the dark haired young man who had questioned him about their plans was in a hushed, but earnest conversation with others that he assumed were his teammates.

"You got something to say, Team Leader Braddock?" The Major asked.

Grey looked at his teammates before answering, and they all gave him an affirmative nod of their heads.

"We know where the trucks end up, Sir."

Bent and Starn looked at each other, but the Major asked him, "And how do you know where they are, trooper?"

"We've seen them Major."

"Seen them where?

"We saw them in the Quarantine Zone, Sir." Answered.

"What were you doing in the QZ, Braddock?" Demanded the Major.

"It has been two years since we seen them, Major Armstrong. Well before we joined the CDI program. My team and I went into the QZ because we believed that a great deal of salvage was available. During our foray into the QZ, we came across several cargo movers lying in a ravine. They were empty and abandoned."

"Ah, you were the ones who got that all started salvage nonsense started. Apparently you were successful, if the rumors are true. Do you have any evidence to collaborate your stories?" Asked Bentley, thinking he sounded like a rookie cop just then.

"We have the vid from our helmet cams and our hovercraft," shrugged Grey.

"Do you have it now?" Asked Armstrong.

"We can get it in a few minutes, Major."

Sugar used a satellite uplink to pull the information out of the deck she left at the farm. Once she retrieved it, Sugar hooked her deck into the bar's entertainment console and projected the images onto one of the walls. The team had never reviewed the footage from their encounter with the ghouls, so they were seeing it for the first time.

"Those are the trucks I was telling you about," said Grey as the images flickered onto the walls of the abandoned cargo movers. He had been giving a running commentary as the vid progressed.

"Stop the images please." Capt. Bentley said suddenly.

Sugar did as she was told and the image froze on the wall.

"Enhance the picture on the white truck on the left." He demanded and Sugar enlarged the image until a registration number could be seen painted on the top of the trailer.

"Is that one of your hijacked trucks, Bentley?" Asked Starn.

"I'm going to find out," Bent said as he scrolled down through his datapad. He read the numbers twice before confirming it was one of the missing trucks.

"That's it, we've found them." He announced.

Gentlemen, it sounds like a trip into the Quarantine Zone has just been scheduled," remarked Starn.

"I wouldn't recommend that, Marshal." Said Grey.

"Why not?" Starn demanded.

"It's true we found some valuable salvage, but the QZ is crawling with ghouls, we barely made it out. We can show the footage we have, and you can see for yourself just what I mean. There are literally thousands of them."

Zed stood up and addressed the group very seriously. "I'm old man, a shaman, as most of you know. But I can tell you, there is more out there than ghouls. Death itself hangs over the land. I can't prove that, so you'll just have to believe me. These youngsters have seen the desolation of the land there, and they can vouch that it is a place that is unholy and wrong."

The room was quiet, with everyone looking into each other to see how much of what was being said was true. The fear they saw in each other's eyes gave them an unspoken consensus. They were all tough and experienced, but Team Electric Buffalo was considered the best of them all, and.

"Why don't you just show us the footage, and we'll make the determination about going into the QZ, Braddock." This came from Major Armstrong.

"Yes, Sir."

Sugar started the images moving again, forwarding it through a lot of footage of the team's journey. She stopped it just before the attack by the ghouls. Using the different cam perspectives, she was able to make a rough 3-D image. The gathered men and women watched their battle with the ghouls play out. Curses and groans of dismay escaped the group as they watched the ghouls pour out of every conceivable place. Grey found that even this footage taken two years ago still made him shake.

"What the frag is that?" Someone demanded when the cyber-ghoul landed on the back of hovercraft. The fight on the back where Jose was hurt was over much faster than he remembered it, thought Grey.

When the fight was over, Sugar killed the vid and one person expressed all of their feelings by saying, "Drek."

212


	36. Chapter 36

**8 March 2071** Pratt "Helltown" Kansas

**2310 Hours**

The bar was buzzing with talk among the scouts. Major Armstrong frowned because he had lost control of the meeting.

"Everyone," roared the large Troll, "sit down and shut up."

The scouts quieted down and Armstrong scowled at the team, "You people have some explaining to do. What the frag were you thinking going into the QZ?"

"Major Armstrong, we were thinking that we were poor and broke and looking at hard times with no hope that things would get better soon. We did what we had to do to survive. I don't know if you know what it's like to be as desperate as we were. Facing starvation during a prairie winter will make you do crazy things, like going into the QZ or joining the Army."

That line got some laughs from the group, which quieted down when the troll scowled at them. The thing is, he did know what is was like to be desperate and to face starvation. As a child, his family poor, they had lived in a packing crate during the winter in Detroit. He'd done what he had to just to survive back then. Times were desperate now as well, and no one really cared if they went into the QZ, except for maybe some bureaucrat in Washington.

"Watch the smart mouth, trooper. Your hoop is about this close to ending up in fragging Leavenworth as it is."

"Yes, Sir." Agreed Grey.

"Since this footage does contain valuable footage being used in a confidential operation, I will forgo the court martial I'm sure you deserve. Do you have any other footage that might be pertinent to this investigation?"

"No, Sir." Grey and his team answered together.

"You better hope to hell you aren't holding anything back, or you'll be in prison orange by the end of the week," threatened the Troll, who looked so ferocious the men in the front actually scooted their chairs back.

"That is everything, Sir!" Grey promised.

Three hours, and six viewings of the vid footage later, Grey and his team had answered all of questions put them. Numerous opinions were offered over the exact nature of the cyber-ghoul and Jose's stock as a tough fighter rose appreciably in the estimation of the scouts.

Major Armstrong leaned in and spoke in a low voice to Bentley, "What do you think?"

Bent hesitated for a second and said, "I need to get in there and look for evidence. It's a crimes scene, but…"

"Yeah," Armstrong agreed to LSHP captain's unspoken words, "a crime scene that's dangerous as fragging hell. You'll have to go in by chopper, or maybe by Osprey, and you won't be able to stay too long. I assume you'll want to keep this quiet as well."

Bentley nodded his assent and then spoke to Helltown's marshal, "Starn, do you think you could go in as my back up?"

"Even I couldn't face down that many ghouls, Bent." Starn shrugged.

"We wouldn't go in alone, we need some more security. I need to have a look at those trucks."

"How long do think you would be on the ground, Captain?" Asked Armstrong.

Bentley pursed his lips as he thought it all through. "It will take some hours. I would have to do all the work, since I can't bring in a forensic team. Your people were in the QZ for several days Major, before they were attacked, it seems like we could be in an out in a couple of hours with no one knowing we were ever there."

"That's the best case scenario, Bentley," said Armstrong.

"Well, I suppose the worst case scenario is that we get jumped by cyber-ghouls and eaten."

"Actually, I'm not sure that is the worst case scenario." Starn mused. "Didn't that shaman with group talk about some other presence being out there, Death itself?"

"Hyperbole aside," Armstrong said, "the QZ is a strange place. I never heard of a ghoul pack being as large as what we saw in the vid."

"That does seem odd." Agreed Bentley. "I have got some contacts at Kansas University. They got a professor there who is an expert on paranormal animals and such. I'll see what he has to say about it."

"Electric Buffalo, you've just volunteered to go back into the QZ, so get your drek squared away ." Armstrong announced to the team.

**9 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone**

**0739 Hours**

The engines of their hovercraft screamed at is flew low over the prairie. Frank had the big engines red lining, flying by wire and gray matter as nerve impulses traveled from his brain and into the circuitry of the vehicle and back again. The red-hot engines felt the way his lungs burned after a hard run. The team stood at their posts manning the deadly weapons they had installed on the craft. Starn and Bentley and the university professor hung on as tightly as they could as the big hovercraft ate up the kilometers. Starn was aided in staying upright by his cyberware, but even he looked a bit apprehensive at the speed they were going.

Overhead, silhouetted against a cloudy gray sky, two army transport helicopters barely matched the pace of the Eagle. Aboard were twenty scouts who would serve as a security detachment once they reached the site.

"Airedale One and Two, this Groundhog," Sugar spoke into her mic, estimated time to the objective is ninety seconds. Over."

"Airedale One, confirming." One of the chopper pilots confirmed, "We got a visual on the site. No sign of hostiles. Over."

When they arrived, Frank yelled for them to hang on and two seconds later flared the control vanes and the Eagle whipped around on its axis and completed a hundred and eighty degree turn, traveling backwards. Frank powered the engines just enough to begin braking. The helicopters came in and the scouts disembarked and ran to take up defensive positions as the helicopters took off again to circle the site and provide airborne security.

"This is War Dog," Armstrong said into his radio," All security elements check in every ten minutes with your team leaders and team leaders check in with me every fifteen minutes. Copy?"

The series of affirmations came back as everyone nervously watched for ghouls. Their nerves were stretched to the limits as they moved quietly forward. Grey and his team, except Sugar and Frank, followed Starn and Bentley as they moved to the abandoned cargo haulers. They looked ominous in the early morning light, like large tombstones. The prairie was dead here, with only the feathery black stalks of fungus growing in clumps in the once fertile soil. The professor, a portly, balding man knelt down to investigate the odd fungi growing in the area as Bent carried his forensic kit toward the abandoned hulks. Zed and Red Bear stayed with the professor to provide protection.

"The numbers on that truck match the latest hijacked hauler, so let's start there," said Bentley. The Lone Star officer set his case on the cab of the cargo hauler that was lying on its side. Bentley hoisted himself up and opened the cab. Inside, he cracked the front panel of the truck and removed the unit's CPU, which would contain all the data the unit had collected. Using a multi-sensor, Bent scanned the inside of the truck with UV light and electronic sniffers looking for DNA evidence and even old-fashioned fingerprints. A few appeared and he copied them with a high-res police camera. He suspected they belonged to the maintenance personnel who were responsible for the truck, but he had to be thorough. Next, he left the cabin and walked along the length of the trailer. The metal support struts had been bent and twisted and the aluminum sheet metal buckled under his feet with loud bangs.

"This hauler has been dropped here. The damage to the structure shows that it landed on its side and there is no evidence of wheel marks anywhere." Bentley observed.

"Someone owns a heavy lift helicopter," said Grey, "I saw one when I first went to Helltown, and I have seen it several times since then."

"Here," said Bentley handing down the hauler's CPU to Grey, "see if your decker can find anything on this."

Grey took the unit and ran it back to the Eagle, where Frank and Sugar had stayed in case they needed to make a quick escape. He jogged back to crime scene, stopping next to Dr. Neely who was collecting samples. The professor, talking to Zed, admitted that the black fungus was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Grey scanned the area and said into his comm unit, "Frank, take the Eagle to the top of that eastern rise, it will give the ground radar a better view."

Frank double clicked his radio in affirmation and then eased the big hovercraft up the gentle slope. Grey slung his assault rifle and went to wrecked cargo haulers and climbed on top of one of the trailers, getting an elevated view of the surrounding areas and scanned the horizon with his newly enhanced vision.

**9 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone**

**0845 Hours**

Sugar called the Lone Star captain on the radio. "Captain Bentley, this is Snake, I got something on that CPU you gave us."

"Go ahead," Bent answered.

"It was fried with an EMP blast."

"EMP?" Bent questioned. "These things are heavily shielded against electromagnetic pulses."

Sugar responded, "It would have had to have been very strong and very close to the CPU for it to work. Any shielding can be overwhelmed if the power is high enough."

"We need to look inside one of the engine areas." Bentley said to Starn and Jose, "The decker says the CPU was damaged by an electromagnetic pulse and it would have to had been close or very powerful, but since only one vehicle at a time is effected, I'm thinking it was close."

Jose used his shoulder to force the hood of one of the trucks open far enough for him to stick his head in. A minute later he pulled out a cylinder six centimeters round and twenty centimeters long.

Jose sniffed it and said, "Whatever this was it's burned out now."

Starn took the device from Jose, his unblinking cybereyes scanning the cylinder. Then he said, "It's a one-time use EMP device. I saw these things down in Aztlan; dissident tribes use them to frag the Corps computers. They are easy to make from common parts. Someone attached it with magnets near the CPU. This wire glued to the side is an antenna. It was remotely triggered. Obviously, it was put on the truck and then later as it passes by the ambush point, someone sends out a low power radio signal and triggers the pulse, which fries the CPU, navigation GPS, and the Comm system."

Bentley nodded his head and added more to the hypothesis, "And a heavy lift helicopter comes swooping in, picks up the truck, and takes it someplace where it can be emptied and then dumps it here, where no one ever comes. Pretty slick operation. This means that someone on the inside of the companies must be putting these EMP devices on the trucks."

**9 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone**

**1001 Hours**

"I think this is a single organism," said Dr. Neely, the KU professor. "Each of these fronds is interconnected just under the surface of the soil. I think this is some sort of fungus, but I have never seen the like before. It has totally eradicated all nutrients from soil. There isn't any insect life either; it's all very strange. If you look back that way, you can see these fronds are not black, but have turned an ashen gray. I think those are dead, and this organism must keep expanding out to find new sources of nutrients."

"There is more to this than simple biology," said Zed, "this fungus is unclean, vampiric in some way. It feeds on life itself. We must destroy it or it will continue to spread. Look, these look like spores to me."

Professor Neely peered closely at the black fern-like frond with a magnifier. "I agree, but I will have to study these samples to be sure.

**9 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone ** **1027 Hours**

"Airedale One to Groundhog." The lead helicopter radioed. "We are low on fuel. Either we go home with you aboard, or we leave you here why we refuel and pick you up in an hour."

"I think I have everything I need." Bentley announced. "Let's get the frag out of here, this place gives me the creeps."

"Roger that," agreed Major Armstrong over the radio. "Airedale One, pick up your passengers, we're going home."

"Affirmative, coming in now."

The circling helicopters swooped in to pick up the security detail that wasted no time boarding the choppers. With an angry growl, the pilots revved their hybrid engines and turned homeward.

Frank brought the alcohol burning engines of the Eagle to life and swung the hovercraft around to pick up the team.

"I've got movement on the radar," announced Sugar Blue from her console. "Twelve targets total moving toward us, but it looks like two of the targets are being pursued by the others."

On the wind, they could hear automatic weapons fire popping in the distance.

"One of the pursuers in down," announced Sugar, "but the others are closing fast."

"Major," Grey called on his comunit, "we got someone out here nearby and it sounds like they are popping caps. Did we leave anyone behind?"

Major Armstrong responded to Grey's inquiry by demanding, "All leaders do a head count, now."

Quickly, the affirmative responses came over the comunits.

"Okay," Announced Armstrong as the last unit checked in. "Electric Buffalo, swing around and investigate. We won't be able to provide air cover; these birds are low on go-juice. Be careful."

"Roger that, Major." Grey affirmed. Just then Frank brought the Eagle along side, slowing just enough for Grey to jump aboard.

"Eyes sharp, everyone." Grey ordered. "We know how hairy this could get so keep your weapons loose. Sugar, plot a course that will bring us between the two groups. Frank, crank the engines up and make her fly."

They lurched forward as Frank dumped alcohol into the afterburners. Jose and Red Bear were manning the crew served weapons, their smartlinks interfacing with the guns and projecting targeting data directly on their retinas. The Eagle went airborne as it crested a small rise at two hundred kilometers an hours.

What they saw was two people, a man and a woman, lying in a buffalo wallow. The man was firing an assault weapon a ghoul pack that ran stooped over in the tall grass. They howled in rage and bloodlust, a sound of pure evil. Red Bear and Jose began shooting as soon as they could. Jose sat in the small open topped turret with the quad .50 machine guns while Red Bear manned a minigun, which he moved to the starboard side of the craft. Ghouls, caught in the terribly lethal spray of lead disintegrated into mists of red or were cut in two, depending on which weapon hit them.

"I got multiples popping up all over the radar screen!" Sugar announced excitedly.

Grey yelled at the Sgt. Longbow, "Get your hoops on board or you're dead!"

The Sioux soldier grabbed the exhausted girl, one of the students who had been trapped in Chorus' tunnels, and dragged her over to the Eagle. Miriam grabbed the girl's outstretched hand and using her ork strength, pulled her effortlessly onto the deck of the hovercraft. The Indian leaped up and took a firing position at the bulkhead next to Red Bear.

Red Bear and Jose continued to annihilate the incoming ghouls, but they knew they would soon be overrun.

"Frank, get us the frag outta here!" Ordered Grey.

Frank keyed up the appropriate synapses and the alcohol powered jet engines whined and the hovercraft moved forward quickly gaining speed. Sgt. Bruce Longbow emptied his magazine at the ghouls who were futilely trying to follow on foot. He reached for another to reload the weapon, but he felt someone grab his wrist and when he turned to look he found himself staring down the very large opening of an Ares Predator pistol.

"You're under arrest, friend." Grey said with steel in his voice.

228


	37. Chapter 37

15 March 2071 **Post Office, Helltown**

**1616 hrs**

"I think I know how they are sorting the decoys from the rest of the trucks." Said Starn

"How is that?" Asked Capt. Bentley of Lone Star, pausing in his application of black face paint for the raid on the Scalper's compound.

"Every cargo hauler has a manifest, which gives the weight of its cargo. When a decoy truck, loaded with personnel is checked at a weigh station, it shows up as over or under its projected weight, and I bet any such truck is passed on through. But if it looks good, they attach a EMP bomb on it."

Bent nodded his head and said, "That sounds reasonable."

"I would set up a decoy where the weight of the troopers is equal to the manifest." Starn mused. "Then you just have to make up some nice juicy manifests to attract their attention."

"I have a decoy ready to go out, now. I will send a message to the shipping have the truck's manifest and actual weight match." Said Bent. "But first I will a send a message to my people that we are discontinuing our decoy efforts for now and for the SWAT teams to stand down. I'll replace the SWAT teams with some of these CDI guys."

Major Armstrong already bedecked in his face paint and camouflaged military fatigues came into the back room where the two law enforcement officers were conversing.

"My men are ready for the briefing, Captain." The big troll rumbled.

"Any information from the NAN soldier, Major?" Bent asked.

"Just name, rank, and serial number so far. But probably he was part of a team that was inserted into the QZ that was manning an observation post spying on the ConFeds. The girl has been much more helpful. She was listed as missing two years ago when her research team from K-State disappeared out on the prairie. It was assumed para-animals had killed them, but what she is telling us is that the students have been held prisoner in underground tunnels by the ghouls. She reports there is some sort of being that exists in the tunnel, sentient but alien to anything we know, that the ghouls worship as a god. The old shaman thinks this entity is actually some sort of fungi that has vampiric qualities, draining life essences from everything around it. All of those black fern-like growths we saw are all apart of the organism. It apparently is only alive under the ground and on the penumbra of its extension. The umbra has been drained of all life in a way that has never been seen. Professor Neely is guessing the fronds not only absorb the life essence from the ground, but also act as sensory organs."

"Why didn't the ghouls eat the students right away?" Asked Starn.

"This is where it gets weird…I mean weirder." Explained the troll Major. "Apparently this thing is sterile, it cannot produce viable spores. The girl's professor, Doctor Nandi Peloni, has made a deal with this thing. She and her students find a way to make this thing's spore viable, and she gets a chance to cure her husband, who's lying in cryogenic suspension after being geeked by Ashtons Disease. Two students tried to escape before and were killed… or maybe not, the girl is not making much sense about that, but one them was her fiancé. The girl got desperate enough to try and escape down a half collapsed tunnel and ran into the NAN soldier and his team set up in a camp near the border. The ghouls followed and I guess the soldiers tried to protect her and opened fire. Their position was overrun by a mass of ghouls, but the two of them managed to escape and evade until our people picked them up."

"The girl also says they were receiving supplies on a regular basis, advanced medical equipment for their research. My guess is the Sioux were paying rent on their squat. We got intelligence and planning working on a rescue plan, although how we are going to get past a drek load of ghouls, I got no idea."

"We'll have to worry about them later. We need to deal with the Scalpers first." Remarked Bentley. "We aren't going to have much time tonight."

Once again the scouts were assembled in the Post Office. Aerial photographs of the Scalper's compound were being projected on the wall as Bentley and Armstrong gave the briefing on the impending raid.

"Go time is 0500 hrs. Team Electric Buffalo and Captain Bentley will move in from the southeast," Armstrong explained and blue icons representing the teams moved across the projection to show the route the team were to take, "crossing the river, punching through this fence and stopping here, next to what we believe is the leader's house. That is the most likely place we'll find any evidence. They will secure the rear and then breach through the front door and subdue or neutralize any threats inside while executing the search warrant. Team Wolf Pack and myself will land by chopper here at the back of these buildings, which we believe is the main barracks or common area, and secure its exterior. Teams Badger, Wild Bill, Boomers, and Razorbacks will assault through the main gate of the compound in their ground vehicles and head for these points to secure the compound and as backup in case another team runs into to trouble. Marshal Starn will accompany them. Switching now to an infrared picture, you can see these small dots, which have been identified as land mines. A safe route has been established and will be entered into your GPS navigation units. Make sure you don't deviate from that course. "

"Team Alamo and Team Hammer will be outside of the compound providing long range sniper support and will keep the area lit with magnesium flares, since not everyone has night vision capacity. Now Captain Bentley would like to speak."

Bentley cleared his throat before speaking. "Everyone here has no illusions on how the Scalpers will react to this raid. However, you must think of yourself as law enforcement officers for the time being. You cannot just open fire on someone, you must first give them a chance to surrender, if possible. You cannot initiate a gun battle, but you may return fire. This operation will be scrutinized at the highest levels; so don't get yourself into trouble by shooting the first person you see. Identify yourself as being police and give a command to surrender. But, once the drek hits, stay alive."

**15 March 2071**

**I-70 Highway, 91 Kilometers west of Salina, Ks**

**0015hrs**

Team Cobra rode quietly in the back of an automated cargo hauler down I-70. This was their third trip in the back of hauler. They had been riding in the truck since they embarked in Kansas City and they were bored. But they perked up when they noticed a change in the speed of the truck as it pulled off the main highway and onto a weigh station scale. They heard the Lone Star inspector moving around and under the truck.

"I think we just got tagged with an EMP device." Whispered Jerry Curran, their squat, ugly, but capable team leader aloud. Wait until after we get hit with the EM pulse, and then open the shielded crate and get our radios out."

In a few minutes, the truck rejoined the westward traffic on I-70 where they droned on for another hour, listening anxiously to the noise of the engine and the tires rolling on the highway when suddenly there was a small pop, and the rigs emergency CPU automatically moved the vehicle off the road and onto the shoulder . A second, louder pop sounded and the whining of the electric engine suddenly changed and the dim bulb that lit the back of the truck popped and went out, shooting sparks that made them all jump. The truck rolled to a stop, its CPU fried.

"Shotguns by the door. Get ready to exit. Keep your fingers off the bang switches until you got a reason to shoot. Play it cool and let's try to avoid a bloodbath." Ordered Curran.

The Cobra team heard the heavy thump of a large helicopter's rotors approaching and voices outside the truck speaking excitedly. They heard the sound of chains being dragged along the metal roof of the truck.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Yelled Curran as Cobra team kicked open the back door surprising the gangers hooking up the lift chains.

"Your under arrest!" Shouted Curran as the lights mounted on their weapons lit the surprised Rads. There was stunned silence by the Rads gang members and they looked over at Sgt. Boothe for direction.

Boothe realized he was undone and in desperation, he went for his sidearm and screamed, "Kill the fraggers!"

Some of the Rads went for their guns, others just tried to run and they were the only ones who lived. Cobra Team let loose with everything they had, cutting down those who sought to fight. Sgt. Boothe fired his pistol as he backed away, but Curran's fully automatic fire chewed through his body armor quickly and dropped him. Within minutes, all but two of the fleeing gangers were rounded up.

Curran sent a sub-audio message via his throat mike to their backup truck that was twenty minutes ahead of them. "We got 'em, Slaughterhouse, call in a Docwagon, we had to drop some of them, and notify Captain Bentley we got the hijackers, but there were casualties, including a LSHP officer who was working with the hijackers. Also let him know that there is a large helicopter circling above us. See if he can get it intercepted."

But the pilot of the helicopter flew low enough to see the mercenaries being arrested and he quickly pulled up and revved his engine to escape. He keyed his mike and said, "Bogie to Bacall. We got problems."

**15 March 2071**

**Pratt, Kansas**

**0411 Hours**

Melanie Butcher felt her life being ripped from her body as the dark mist consumed her essence. She knew her murderer, of course. Dr. Goddard had arranged for the use of her helicopter for the hijackings. She was also responsible for moving the stolen merchandise. A couple of hours ago, her pilot had informed her that the go-gangers they had hired to hijack the trucks had been taken down. She had contacted Goddard to tell him. He has seemed unconcerned, but now with the last moments of her life, she knew he had planned to kill her all along.

The Death Mage scattered some white phosphorous bombs about the place, and set their timers. They would go off in thirty minutes. Then walked out of warehouse his erstwhile partner had owned and into his Ford Impala. His driver, the helicopter pilot, had the motor running and they pulled away. Goddard opened the glove compartment and removed a small lacquered box. Opening it, he saw only a small remnant of powder made from the Chorus' fronds. Before he had murdered Mel, he had wiped out the rest of the Rads and burned down the old bank building they used as a clubhouse. He had used a great deal of power tonight, with the multiple murders, and he had only a little of powdered fungi left to recharge his power. He quickly snorted the powder because he wasn't through with death this night.

"I need to fly to the scalpers compound and then out to the QZ. After that, my work this night will be over."

Once they reached the helicopter, the Death Mage killed his driver. There was only one other person who could identify him, the leader of the Scalpers. Once he killed him, he would fly to Chorus in the QZ and get more of Its essence to replenish his power.

**15 March 2071**

**Scalpers Compound, Western Kansas**

**0501 Hours**

The hovercraft floated across the river an up the gentle slope approaching the electrified fence of the Scalper's compound. Frank steered through the Eagle through the landmines along the safe path stored in the navigation computer. All of them ducked but no sparks flew as they crashed through the fence. The Scalpers were notoriously lax about security, and everything else, because of their damaged brains. But no one bothered them because they were also insanely homicidal and suicidal. Scalper's often attempted stunts on the bikes, which rational people knew would kill them, just because it sounded fun. Whether they lived or died, it was great entertainment to the rest of the go-gangers.

The Eagle did a hundred and eighty degree turned and eased up to the front of the Scalper's main building. Capt. Bentley and Electric Buffalo jumped from the back of the hovercraft before it stopped moving. The helicopters were only seconds behind and ropes were tossed over the side and the men from the support teams rappelled down to the ground. The front gate crashed in as an armored car, followed by the trucks of the scouts, busted in.

The front door exploded of its hinges as Red Bear slammed it with the large riot shield he carried easily in one massive fist. He moved in, found himself in a foyer with a stair leading up on his right, a door to what appeared to be a filth-ridden kitchen in front of him, and another closed door to his right. He stopped in the foyer and set himself as the anchor for the rest of the team, providing security over watch on the stairs and the doorway to the kitchen. Grey moved in and took up position on the left side of the closed door and Capt. Bentley took up position on the right. Both of them had submachine guns held in the low ready position. Bentley nodded to Grey, and Grey stepped in front of the door and kicked it open. Old cans and plastic bottles rattled and scattered and the door flew open. Immediately, Bentley stepped into the room in a semi-circular movement that allowed him to scan the interior of the room. Once Bentley was in, Grey followed him and the room was cleared.

Something was wrong. Bent and Grey looked at each other finding confirmation in each other's face that all was not as it should be. The air seemed to be slick with an oily feeling of disease. Bent recognized the feeling from his encounter with with the dark mage. Both men instinctively froze as they tried to figure out where the source of their unease was coming from.

"We got a problem," said Bent. "I've encountered this feeling before. It some kind of magic, but nasty and dangerous.

"Eagle and Cougar," Grey sub-vocalized over the comm unit, "watch the back door but don't make entry. Something feels wrong in here, Captain Bentley says we got some bad juju happening. Zed, come this way. Everyone, stay sharp, we may need you to pull our hoops out of here."

"Understood, Wolf," came Jose's reply.

"On my way," announced the buffalo shaman.

Gunfire erupted outside as a dozen firefights broke out with the Scalpers. Chatter from their comm units alerted them that someone was hurt when another team called for a medic. Miriam answered she was on her way, and a second later, Sugar announced she would provide cover for the Ork medic.

Bent nodded for Grey to move forward and they began to clear the house. Red Bear stayed in position at the bottom of the stairs to cover any threat from the second floor. Bentley and Grey quickly moved through the rest of the house, before moving back to the foyer.

Red Bear once more took the lead, walking up the stairs backwards holding the heavy riot shield for protection. Before he had gone even half way, there was a crash that shook the whole house. It sounded to the men below that a vehicle had struck house, and they thought maybe a chopper had crashed. But Frank and Jose started screaming for help and without hesitation, Grey made for the back door with Bentley and Red Bear close behind. As soon as he opened the door, a black mist hit him full on, wrapping itself around him and trying to steal the life from him and he screamed in agony. Red Bear and Bentley staggered and fell under the onslaught of the mist as well.

"We need help, arrrrrgggghhhh!"

"Grey!" he heard Zed screaming over his comm unit, "I'm coming."

The dust devil spirits Zed had conjured came tearing around the corner just ahead of the shaman. The dark mist, not as thick as it had been, did not cover the scene completely and Zed could just see a figure in a black robe making gestures. He could also hear chanting. Zed ordered his dust devils to attack the robed figure with attacks that felt like someone was using a sandblaster.

Bradford Goddard didn't have the power to deal with this unexpected assault. His powers were ebbing fast and he could feel it. He moved away as fast as he could, trying to reach his own small helicopter just outside the compound. Before he made it to opening of the fence he'd created earlier, Goddard threw a patch of mist at the shaman, expecting only to distract his spell casting, and he was pleased to see the old man crumble when the mist struck him in the chest. But he turned to see the others who had been in and around the house stagger to their feet, soon they would be back in the fight. The chatter of gunfire opened up and he felt the bullets enter into the mist that surround him, stealing the kinetic energy from the bullets, but further weakening him. He turned to the source of the gunfire and saw a young woman kneeling, ready to fire again. In anger he reached out with his misty aura and grabbed the girl and snatching her to him in an instant and she became a floating, mist wrapped, human shield held between her and her companions.

Using a bit his quickly fading power, the Death Mage amplified his voice, bluffing them. "If you make any movement I will rip her life from body. You have just seen that your weapons cannot harm me. I will leave, and if you follow in one of your aircraft, I will throw her out of my helicopter to her death."

The scouts froze, not knowing what to do that wouldn't get their comrade killed. Goddard moved rapidly, knowing he only had a few seconds left before he was powerless. Somehow, he managed to make it to his helicopter before dropping the girl. He put a gun to the back of her head and forced her into the chopper. Sick from prolonged contact with the mist, she could nothing as the doctor injected a sedative sending her into oblivion. In her last moment of consciousness, Sugar triggered her emergency location beacon without Goddard being aware of it.

**15 March 2071**

**Scalpers Compound, Western Kansas**

**0514 Hours**

"Sugar activated her emergency beacon and we are tracking her," Announced Frank. "It looks like they are heading east, I bet my hoop they are going to the QZ."

"We need to get after her." Announced Grey franticly. "We're heading out now. Get this damned thing ready to go Frank."

"Hold on, Son." Ordered Major Armstrong. "You aren't leaving here without orders. You run into the QZ without a plan, and your whole team is dead."

The gunfire was dying out now. The remaining Scalpers, at least those who still possessed enough brain cells to understand reality, were surrendering, . The word about what had happened at the main house was spreading.

"We got the intelligence boys at Ft. Riley already working on a hostage rescue plan. We'll tell them to hurry it up. Just sit tight until we got all our resources in play, or it's hopeless for you and her.  
Grey nodded to the Major and looked forlornly into the eastern sky there was just a hint of the coming dawn.

240


	38. Chapter 38

**15 March 2071** **Quarantine Zone - Tunnels**

**0900 Hours**

"Why did you come here?" Demanded Chorus, his god-like voice echoing angrily down the corridors. The Chosen stood against the wall, their tortured bodies displaying the crude attachments and cyberware implants. On the ground, Sugar's emergency beacon lay smashed and dead.

Goddard blanched at the voice, but said, "I need more of your essence to regain my power. I have used it all up protecting your secret."

"They will follow her here. That was a tracking device." Chorus' booming hiss echoed. He had accessed the brains of the Sioux soldiers its ghouls had captured earlier. They had recognized what it was.

"They already knew of your presence here." Argued Goddard. "The woman and the NAN soldier told them. It was only a matter of time before they came anyway. Give me some of your essence, and I can help protect you."

Chorus knew that the Death Mage would leave as soon as he could once he had Its essence. It could also sense the presence of the humans above. Small explosions were occurring over the area, although It did not know why. It commanded the Chosen, "Put them both in the chambers with the other humans. You will lead your brothers against the humans when they come to take them back."

Goddard protested, but he ghouls drug him and the newly awakened girl to the room where Peloni's experiments were being conducted.

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone - Surface**

**1101 Hours**

Grey watched the monitor as the seismic monitors dropped from Armstrong's helicopter transmitted the details of the ghoul tunnels under the quarantine zone. Small explosives had sent concussion ripples through the ground and the seismic monitors had been able to create a 3-D image of the tunnels. He watched until Capt. Bentley called him on the comm unit. Sugar's beacon had gone dead a few minutes ago, and his heart had dropped. He climbed out of the hovercraft and ran to meet with the mission leaders near Armstrong's helicopter

Major Armstrong brought up a projected image of the QZ area above the ghoul tunnels. He pointed at the map and said, "The plan is simple. We will go in as a slow moving wave. That is the CDI Scouts, my team, and Bentley's SWAT units. I will command from the air. We believe the ghouls will come out to us. As soon as we make contact, the left and right wings will close in and make a circle with everyone facing out. This will give us a 360-degree field of fire. Once we have their attention, Electric Buffalo will drop in by chopper at these coordinates, and enter the tunnels. They will make their way to the last known location of our hostage. Once in, they will try to rescue the remaining KU students as well as their teammate.

As of this time, we do not have air support, but I believe it will be inbound shortly. Air support will consist of attack helicopters, air-to-ground attack aircraft and heavy bombers. Everyone should know that whether we succeed or fail, this area is going to be bombed to hell."

Ten minutes later, the wave of vehicles moved forward in a three-sided box formation. Captain Bentley road in an armored support vehicle the SWAT teams used for breaching houses. He held a pump shotgun in his right hand and scanned the horizon with a monocular with another. At first he thought the rising sun was causing heat to ripple the air, but then he realized that the ground was moving like a squirming blanket. With a sudden violence, the ground was ripped open and ghouls, maybe ten or fifteen thousand burst forth. Bentley could hear Armstrong as he shouted over the comm unit to form the circle. The vehicles began the maneuver, following the waypoints the Major's battle computer designated. Bentley didn't think they would close the circle in time, but they just managed it when the tide of ghouls broke upon them.

Team Electric Buffalo flew in the on Armstrong's command helicopter. Marshal Starn also rode with them. Once the ghouls had emerged, and the circle formation complete, the pilot took them several kilometers deeper into the QZ and brought the chopper down near one of the tunnel entrances.

"Good luck, Son." The Major told Grey. Grey gave him a salute without saying anything and the big troll returned it. Once the team was off the chopper, the pilot took off again and headed back to the battle.

Starn's cyber-eyes betrayed no emotion, but Armstrong could feel Helltown's marshal's tension. A deadly combination of cyberware and will, even the Iron Marshal was overawed by the mass of ghouls attacking the troopers below.

"I don't think this is going to end well for those poor bastards down there," Starn said. "Glad I'm up here in the air."

"Let's hope we can hang on long enough for the air support to get here."

"Has it been approved?" Asked Starn.

Armstrong shook his head and said, "Not yet, but soon, I hope."

Starn didn't say anything, but laid belly down on the floor of the chopper and began shooting into the mass of ghouls below with his rifle.

Every so often, he would toss out a frag grenade, but it did little to stop the swarm below.

244


	39. Chapter 39

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone - Tunnels**

**1110 Hours **

The tunnels were large, but filled with the stench of rot and corruption. Grey led the rest of his team forward, the flashlight mounted on his submachine gun probing the abysmal darkness of the ghoul tunnels. The twisted hyphae of the Chorus snaked along the roof and walls of the tunnel. A scrabbling sound came echoing toward them from down the tunnel.

"Here they come, weapons free!" Ordered Grey.

The thermal images of the ghouls came out of the gloom and Grey aimed center of mass for the first one. The subgun barked once and the indistinct shape fell down, and was immediately trampled over by the rest. Grey had ordered his team to load up with armor piercing rounds, and Red Bear's Gatling gun ripped and the depleted uranium shells, designed to pierce composite armor many times denser than flesh, blew through the first ranks of the ghouls to shred those behind. Only a few made it within ten meters of the team, and these were carefully dispatched with head shots.

Checking the seismic map against the information of the rescued girl, Grey moved forward, determined to find Sugar and the rest. Jose and Frank took to chopping at the hyphae, letting black ichor leak into the dirt of the tunnel floor. The made their way through the tunnels until the sight of a one of Choruses ganglia froze them in their tracks. The severed heads of dozens of men and women lay entrapped in a web of pulsing hyphae. Their facial contortions telling them the heads were still alive.

"Good Lord have mercy!" Exclaimed Miriam in horror.

"Set the explosives. Put them out of their misery." Grey ordered.

"No time," said Red Bear, "more ghouls inbound."

Grey aimed his gun up and fired a long full-auto burst into Chorus' ganglia, and skulls exploded. Chorus screamed in agony, its voice echoed and reverberated up and down the tunnels. The ghouls who infested tunnel stopped, stunned and afraid at the sound they had never heard before.

"What the frag was that?" Shouted Jose.

Miriam began to whisper prayers of deliverance and then, under sudden inspiration, opened her medkit and removed an inoculation gun and loaded a vial of clear liquid. Once loaded, she injected it into the cable like growth that kept the tunnel from collapsing.

"Move out, team." Ordered Grey, "We have got to find Sugar."

"Yeah, lets get her and then get out of here," agreed Jose.

Grey's face was set in steel as he moved forward down the tunnel. The ghouls began to move again, but with less purpose than before. Sand and dirt sifted down from the ceiling of the tunnels as surface explosions rocked the ground. The chatter on their comunit told them the battle was raging fiercely on the surface.

They didn't even slow down as Grey dropped the next small group of ghouls with five rapid single shots to their heads. With his thermal vision, he scanned the darkness as he followed the map on his datapad. A mass of red body heat told him a large group of ghouls were attacking.

"Large formation, dead ahead and coming fast." He announced.

"Stand by," said Frank as he pulled three spheres from his equipment pouches. Flicking a switch, he sent the small robotic bombs rolling along the floor at a fast clip. Their dog-like AI brains guiding them and coordinating their attacks until compressed air flipped them up waist high, and equally spread, amongst the ghouls, they detonated with a combination of white phosphorous and shrapnel. The ghouls that survived the initial blast twitched and screamed as the white phosphorous burned through their flesh and into their bones. The team overran the group and finished off the wounded with no more pity than the bombs had showed.

Moving deeper, the came across another of Chorus' ganglia and they treated it just like the first, ending the nightmares of the victims. Chorus screamed again in agony, not only at destruction of its grotesque nervous system, but also the poison that burned through its hyphae. Chorus could feel it destroying not its flesh, but its very essence. Chorus did not know what weapon the intruders possessed, but it knew that it was its destruction if they weren't stopped. It ordered all of its minions to attack, creating a feverish pitch of bloodlust by vibrating Its membranes to a certain frequency. Chorus searched for the last of his cyber-ghouls, and found him by looking through the eyes of the decapitated students in the chamber where the scientist had been doing their research.

Chorus could see its creature kneeling besides the female they had captured earlier. It had but one arm, the other, lost in the fight at the river, was replaced with a crude sword-like attachment. Raw hunger made its eyes blaze red, as its purple tongue caressed the soft flesh of her cheek. The ghoul shuddered in anticipation in ripping that flesh free in bloody mouthfuls. The female, although obviously repulsed, did not flinch from the touch. Indeed, it appeared that she was leaning in closer to the monster, welcoming its presence. But then she looped her bound wrists over one of the pieces of metal projecting out of the ghoul's flesh and cut the cord binding her and with her feet underneath her, she slammed her head into the ghoul's nose, forcing his head back and creating a shower of black ichor that spewed from the broken nose. With her right hand she reached for the small holdout blade she kept in her boot and with two quick swipes sliced the throat of the stunned ghoul.

Professor Peloni screamed for the girl to stop and then swung a stray piece of lumber at her. The girl avoided the clumsy attack easily, and struck out, using the edge of her hand to strike an upward angle knocking the wood from the professor's hand and then putting the knife into the women's heart. Shock showed plainly on the women's face as she fell over dead. But Sugar was disarmed as her knife caught in the woman's ribcage. The Death Mage leapt at her, but she threw him over her hip, breaking his arm in an awkward fall and knocking him unconscious.

The ghoul, dying but not knowing it, lurched forward swinging its sword-like arm in a wide arc. Sugar avoided decapitation by turning and dropping into a three-point stance face down with her palms on the floor and kicking backwards with her right foot, planting her boot squarely in the gut of the cyber-ghoul forcing him back. But the ghoul reacted inhumanly fast and swung down hard, but it only buried its appendage into the packed dirt of the chamber's floor as Sugar rolled forward, using her momentum to smoothly gain her feet. The ghoul tried to howl, but only a faint gurgling could be heard through its sliced throat. Chorus watched the ghouls stalk the girl around the chamber, but she avoided the main thrust of its attacks, suffering only minor cuts, until the ghoul began to slow down from blood loss. In its sluggishness, she saw opportunities to launch attacks of her own, striking the mortally wounded ghouls with hard kicks and elbows. Finally, its life-blood staining the dirt floor, the ghoul fell to its knees, unable to raise its arms to defend itself. Chorus watched as the girl kicked the ghoul to death.

Gunfire echoed down the hall and into the chamber. The girl went to the entrance and whistled loud and long to attract the attention of her friends. When they answered her, she then went to the barricaded door and called to the two filthy, bedraggled students still inside and they emerged cautiously. Fear was written on their faces, but one still had enough spirit to spit on both the corpses lying on the floor.

An explosion, not far from the entrance their chamber, send a pressure wave rolling through, making their ears ring and almost rupture from the pressure. Sugar saw her friends back into the room, their weapons white-hot, but still spitting death as they mowed down the ghouls outside. Chorus watched as the team's leader grabbed the female in a fierce embrace and kisse her. She kissed him back for a second but then slipped one of his heavy pistols out of its holster and aimed it at the two heads adorning the walls.

"Angie got out and is safe. She loves you and she wanted you to know that." Sugar said looking up.

Chorus felt the lips of girl's boyfriend curl up in a smile as he accepted the sweet release of death as the girl fired twice, and then Chorus could no longer see them.

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone - Surface**

**1450 Hours**

The shear weight of numbers forced the UCAS and Lone Star Forces fighting on the surface to give ground and the circle formation began to collapse in on itself. In desperation, Major Armstrong called for more back up on his comm devices, but was informed air support, which had finally been granted was still twenty minutes or more away.

"War Dog, this is Shenandoah One with the Confederated States of America Air Force." Came an unexpected voice over their Comm links. "We have been monitoring your communications and we are ten minutes out from your position. Can you give us permission to cross the border?"

"Shenandoah One, stand by" responded Armstrong, "I cannot give permission. I will contact my superiors."

"Understood War Dog." Came the reply.

"Armstrong, this Congressman Beckstone," came a second voice. "I will get the permission for the CSA flight to cross the border. Go ahead and have them head your way, and I will take care of the politics."

"Message received," Major Armstrong acknowledged. "Shenandoah One, you have permission to cross the border at this time."

"We copied the original, War Dog. We are inbound now. ETA nine minutes." The ConFed flight leader reported.

Armstrong, flipped his comunit to broadcast to the entire force fighting the ghouls, "All units, we have air support coming in, we need to hold for another ten minutes."

Armstrong leaned out of the open side of the helicopter and sprayed his carbine into the mass below, doing little to stop its momentum, but finding satisfaction in watching some of the ghouls drop.

As Armstrong's chopper flew low overhead, Captain Bentley of Lone Star fired his pump action shotgun as fast as he could work the slide. The SWAT team fired their weapons into the mass trying to hold back the foul creatures, but to no avail, as six cyber-ghouls leapt upon them and began to rip them apart. If they breached the line, Armstrong knew that troopers below would be overwhelmed. Just then he felt the chopper give a sudden rise as if it had suddenly unloaded a heavy weight. When he turned his head, Starn was nowhere to be found.

Bentley cried in rage and fear, knowing his end had come but defiant to the last. One of the cyber-ghouls ripped open a SWAT officer from belly to throat with a swipe of its arm. But as the deadly ghouls raged forward the Iron Marshal fell from the sky to land in the middle of the dog pile. His cyber-limbs were a blur as razors slashed ghoul flesh. He grappled one of the ghouls on top of an officer and picking it up, he snapped its back and threw it at the oncoming ghouls. Starn charged into The Chosen. His attack was so ferocious they were cast backwards. It was a battle without mercy, fought at blinding speeds. Blood and ichor sprayed freely, until all of The Chosen lay dismembered on the ground and the Iron Marshal, bleeding and leaking from a dozen wounds gave out a war cry of such anger and defiance, the ghouls actually backed up, pressing against the mass behind them that wanted to drive them forward. That gave the surviving SWAT members time to pull their fallen men to safety.

A heavy machine gun opened up, and a scout truck with an old fifty caliber machine gun laid down a barrage the knocked the lead elements of the ghoul attack another step. But only a step, and with renewed hatred, they surged forward once again. Starn pulled his autopistols and fired into the swarming ghouls until they ran dry, and he too had to give ground as well.

251


	40. Chapter 40

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone – Tunnels**

**1455 Hours**

Miriam, ever the professional, began inspecting Sugar and the two former prisoners, ignoring Grey's admonitions to hurry up. When she was satisfied she gave Grey a nod.

"About time," he muttered to himself and the he spoke louder, "Okay, let's get the fraggin' hell out of here."

"We need to go deeper in, Grey." Zed spoke up.

"Deeper?"

"We have to destroy Chorus, make sure it doesn't survive. This is why we were brought together, all of us, to destroy this abomination. We failed once before, and we may never get another chance."

"Zed," reasoned Grey, "they are going to bomb this place to hell. That should be enough."

"Yes, it should be, but we cannot risk it surviving. This task has been appointed to us. It is time we fulfilled our purpose here."

"There are a couple of thousand ghouls here that aren't going to be happy with that idea, Zed." Grey said in exasperation.

Zed nodded, but then knelt down and grabbed two handfuls of dirt. He began to chant, calling on Bison to give him the power he needed at that moment. He felt them coming, the spirits of the buffalo that had roamed the plains in undreamed of numbers. Zed let the dirt sift through his fingers and his chanting rose to a fever pitch. His brow was wet with sweat and his heart beat in his chest as if it would burst from the power that he was channeling. With a final cry of pain and exaltation, Zed stood up and released all of the power.

The rest of the team fell back in awe, as the dirt rolled and twisted like an ocean in tempest. The dirt churned erratically at first, then it formed into the shape of a mighty buffalo that burst from the dirt floor as if it was emerging from the depths. It was followed by more and more until a great herd of spirit bison roared forth shaking the ground as it rumbled out into the corridors of Chorus' world. The ghouls, who feared nothing, stopped in their tracks at the strange rumbling approaching and then turned and ran when they saw the spirit herd. But the great herd filled the tunnels and soon the ghouls were ground underneath their unearthly hooves.

"Follow them," gasped Zed as the last bison emerged. "The way is clear now. We must finish this."

Zed was only able to take one step before collapsing on the floor, holding his chest, and moaning in pain. Miriam rushed to his side, the Autodoc soon injecting the necessary drugs to keep Zed's heart from going into arrest. His eyes flitted for a moment before he gave a great sigh of relief. It felt as if a steel band had been removed from his heart.

"Careful, Old Man," said Red Bear, "great is the power you have unleashed.

"Ammo is starting to run out, Grey." Jose said at the door.

"Right, let's move out on the double." Grey ordered. Red Bear picked the old shaman up easily and the team moved forward.

Following the display on his deck, Grey led them deeper into the tunnels where an exit was appearing. He did not know it, but the chamber that contained the exit was Chorus' essence dwelled. They came across two more of the macabre ganglia of sightless heads and destroyed them with mercy fire. The hyphae were thicker here, looking more like large cables than ropes.

In its chamber, Chorus raged at the pain that was being inflicted on it. With the destruction of the ganglia, it felt as if large portions of itself were being chopped off and a fire seemed to burn through its vessels as the liquid the ork woman was injecting flowed ever closer. He called to his surviving ghouls, hiding in side passages, and they surged toward their dying god. But the deadly fire from Electric Buffalo piled them deep in the corridor.

Grey held the passage, beating back a feeble rush from a knot of ghouls with his Predator pistols. He dropped his last anti-personnel mine on the floor and used the remote to set the multi-sensor. The mine was derived from the old claymore mine of the 20th Century, except those had to be tripped or triggered while Claymore VII used a variety of sensors to scan the area in front of it, and if it didn't detect a friendly beacon, it would explode like and steel ball bearings would fan out in an arc, shredding everything in its path.

Grey turned, and raced into the Chorus' main chamber and was suddenly paralyzed. Inside the room, the presence of evil was so overpowering, fear shut down their nervous systems. The fear was not magical; it was deeper and far more ancient. It was as if all of the world's nightmares had been burned into this unholy place. Grey tried to move, but the fear was so strong his body was betrayed his will. He could see tears flowing down the Red Bear's cheeks, as he too stood helpless. Even when the claymore went off, telling him that ghouls were advancing once again, he could not move and tears of terror and frustration rolled down his cheeks as well. With everything last bit of will he pulled the trigger on his gun. The bullet dug into the floor, as he couldn't lift his arm to aim, but just the pulling of the trigger, a small movement of one finger, gave him the will to push against the fear, since now he knew he was not completely helpless. The startling sound of the gun also inspired, or perhaps shocked, his teammates into moving. Miriam, her lips moving in silent prayer, brought her pneumatic injection gun up and staggered stiffly forward, pressing the muzzle of the air gun against Chorus' main stalk. She squeezed the trigger, allowing the clear vial, only half full now, to empty itself into the evil thing before them. Chorus thrashed his hyphae back and forth knocking them down. But the terror that had paralyzed them was gone now and they were moving again. They leveled their weapons and fired. The spray of bullets and black ichor leaked upon the floor blew off chunks of the fungus.

In howl of pain and rage, Chorus died, its immortality betrayed by the Holy Water Miriam had injected into the most unnatural creation of the Sixth World

"I smell smoke," Jose remarked as he looked around the dim chamber.

"There!" Miriam said pointing to an opening that was faintly lit at the other end with daylight. "We can crawl out that way."

"Hurry up, and move then!" shouted Grey. The team began crawling up the dirt shaft, choking on the smoke of the grass that had been set alight in battle above. Grey came last, and all the while they crawled he feared that a ghoul would grab him by the ankles and drag him back into the darkness. He then heard something scrabbling up behind him.

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone – Surface**

**1500 Hours**

"Do you copy War Dog? CAS air elements do not, repeat, do not have clearance to drop ordinance or engage targets on UCAS soil."

"What the fragging hell do you want us to you fragging idiots?" Yelled Major Armstrong. "We are being overrun!"

"We have UCAS air elements en route. They will be there in ten minutes, War Dog."

"We don't have ten minutes you stupid fragging drekhead!" Yelled Armstrong, who then cut off the furious reply he knew was coming and keyed his radio set to the battle frequency. "Shenandoah One this is War Dog. You are not to drop ordinance or engage targets on the ground. The fragging breeders in Washington says you have to vacate UCAS airspace immediately."

"Understood War Dog, we have just arrived at your location, and we will not engage your targets." Agreed the CSA pilot in a soft Southern drawl. "But seeing as how we are here, we figured we might drop in for a quick recon before we leave your airspace."

Armstrong could hear the whine of the jet engines as three CSA Bowie VTOL air-to-ground attack planes close in, as their pilots vectored the birds' engines to slow down and allow them to fly only four meters over the main body of the ghouls, the heat and blasting air from their engines incinerating the ghouls as they circled the beleaguered troopers position in a circular dance that went twice around the beleaguered UCAS forces. Within a minute, the number of ghouls had been reduced by two thirds.

"War Dog, this Shenandoah One." Came the laconic voice of the CSA pilot, "Reckon we've seen all we can. We are now exiting UCAS airspace per your request. Have a nice day, War Dog."

Switching back to flight mode, the three angry looking aircraft roared back into the sky and made a big loop to head south again. Armstrong grinned and said, "You have a nice day to, Chummers."

The CSA pilot clicked his radio twice in acknowledgment and Armstrong started directing the battle as the scouts and cops cheered the CSA pilots.

**15 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone - Surface**

**1523 Hours**

"Eagle, this is Wolf, do you copy?" Grey said into his comm system.

"Roger that, got your beacons on the screen. Coming your way as fast as I can. Did you get Sidewinder?"

"Affirmative Eagle, and two other passengers as well."

"So ka, that's great!" Said Frank enthusiastically. "We've been barely holding our own out here. Fraggin' ghouls would have overrun us, but some hotdreck CSA boys pulled our hoops out of the inferno. The ghouls are breaking for their holes now, the fight's gone out of them."

Grey flicked his comm unit over to the battle frequency and called Major Armstrong. "War Dog this is Electric Buffalo. We have our chummer and two others besides. One walking wounded at this time. Chorus has been neutralized. Repeating, Chorus has been neutralized. Exfiltrating on the Eagle in thirty seconds. Do you copy?"

"Copy all, Electric Buffalo. Get out of there and rendezvous at the rally point. UCAS air elements are inbound and are going to waste this area. The other teams are already evacuating. Do you copy?"

"Roger, we copy. See you at the rally point Major."

As fast as they could, they bounded onto the back ramp of the Eagle. The students hugged each other and cried; hiding their eyes from the sunlight they hadn't seen in years. They were soon moving away from the QZ as fast as the Eagle could fly. Grey held Sugar's hand as Zed closed his eyes and smiled.

259


	41. Chapter 41

**17 March 2071**

**Quarantine Zone**

**1422 Hours**

Team Electric Buffalo lounged on the back of their hovercraft, enjoying the late winter sunshine pouring down from overhead. The day was fair and promising and they had little to do but provide perimeter security for the Hazmat teams in yellow suits sweeping the area.

The heavy bombardment had been called off so an investigation could be carried out to determine exactly what Chorus had been. The Hazmat teams were frustrated because the remains of Chorus were crystalizing and crumbling to dust very quickly. Regular UCAS military forces were called in to clean up the rest of the ghouls, although the few that were found alive had been trying to escape across the gentle rolling hills of the prairie.

Heavy equipment growled and clanked as a mass grave was dug for the dead ghouls. All of the wounded scouts and cops had been medevac'd already. Zed, still ashen and in pain from his casting efforts, had refused to go and sat comfortably in the back of the hovercraft his feet up on some ammo cans. Despite the pain, he was well pleased.

"Look," said Zed pointing to the sky.

A sparrow dipped and bobbed as it flew past them.

"That is the first life we have seen here, except for ghouls," Zed commented.

"Spring will be here in a few days," Frank said laconically. He sat next to Miriam who was wearing a new ring on her left hand.

"It has been plenty warm, already," added Grey just as laconically as he lay on his back with his head in Sugar's lap.

"We got some weather coming in, going to be colder soon," the shaman added.

"Did you look at the forecast or is your magic telling you that? Asked Sugar as she stroked Grey's forehead absentmindedly.

"Neither," answered Zed, "I feel it in my knees."

"You know," said Sugar, "I finally realized where I had seen that guy who kidnapped me before. He was the doctor in Helltown that patched Grey back together.

"I guess he was a mage as well as a doctor," said Grey, "but I have never heard of any mage who could do what he did. Do you know what kind of magic he was using, Zed?

"Hard to say," mused the shaman. "I have never felt or heard of that kind of magic either. I am convinced it had something to do with that thing in the ground. I would say they both fed on "life mana", if that makes any sense. With that thing destroyed, the mana was released. Probably going to see a lot of free spirits pop up in this area for some time with all that mana the thing had stored up suddenly free. It will take a while, but I think the prairie will overgrow this place again."

"Isn't that what your spirit totem wanted?" Asked Jose.

"Yes, it is exactly what we wanted," agreed Zed In a louder voice, speaking mostly to the wind, he said, "Not that he would ever stop to thank anyone for helping him."

"Heads up," said Jose "boss man commeth."

Grey sat up reluctantly and saw Major Armstrong, Senator Breakstone and another General Meeks coming toward them. Sunlight glinted off the stars on the other officer's collar. As civilians, they did not have to salute officers, but Grey did anyway and General Skils returned the salute.

"Good afternoon, General," said Grey as his hand snapped down.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Braddock," replied the General.

Senator Breakstone shook Grey's hand and said, "I just wanted to come over and personally commend your team for its efforts. You did very well, and your nation is grateful. Your efforts have guaranteed the scouts will be around for some time."

"Happy to serve, Sir. Can I ask, what is going to happen out here? I mean with the Sioux Nation violating our borders and all that?"

"I don't know, honestly," replied the senator. "It will depend on the mood in Washington whether the matter is pursued aggressively, or not. I know if the UCAS military requests more money for manning the border I will approve it. We will have to see."

"Major Armstrong," asked Grey, "did Captain Bentley get his highjackers?"

"Yes, he did. Lone Star is keeping a lid on its internal investigation, but a little bird told me they busted some of their highway inspectors who were putting the EMP devices on at weigh stations and few other LSHP troopers who were involved. The ringleader was killed by Team Cobra."

"This thing that was in the ground was the intelligence behind the highjackings? Asked Grey.

"It had help, but yes, it looks like it was using the Sioux intelligence team and the highjackings as sources of medical gear and revenue," answered Armstrong. "The students you pulled out confirmed they were working on ways to make its spores viable."

"I am glad we got to them before they could finish their work," Grey said.

"Did you find the Dark Mage in the tunnels?" Asked Sugar.

"No," answered Armstrong, "we did not. We found the chamber where you were held and the corpse of the Professor that was working for that thing and one of those cyber-ghouls, but that was it."


	42. Chapter 42

**17 March 2071**

**Helltown**

**0120 Hours**

Dr. Bardford Goddard staggered into his medical office. He was filthy, tattered, and in great pain from his broken arm. He had regained consciousness and had made it to Chorus' chamber just in time to see the UCAS people escaping up a shaft. He had followed them, awkwardly and made his way back to Helltown.

He grabbed a spray injector and felt relief from the pain of his broken arm for the first time in days.

"Fragging Slitch!" He spit out at the memory of that girl breaking his arm.

He looked around and found the place had been crudely searched by the local monstrosity they called the town marshal. But there was a hidden stairway that led to his laboratory in the basement. This, he was pleased to discover had not been found or searched.

The lights came up automatically when he entered and he could see the spores he had collected from Chorus sitting in their containers. Using the commlink on his desk, he called up a T-Bird smuggler he had done business with in the past. A few minutes later, with the transfer of a large amount of nuyen, the deal was made to extract him from Helltown and take him and his experiments to Seattle.

After arranging the deal, he began to awkwardly gather up his samples. Fixing his arm would have to wait until he was safe in Seattle. Until then, he would rely on his crude splint and painkillers to get him by.

As he put the last sample into its case he said out loud, "I will have my power back, and you are going to give it to me."

Seattle, with its temperate climate and frequent rain would be ideal for growing a fungus, he knew.


End file.
